


in our own pretty ways

by krakens



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/F, references to abusive relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:18:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krakens/pseuds/krakens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she gets home the next afternoon, Gigi discovers that Lydia has followed her on Twitter. She follows back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mixtapes

“I’m worried about you," William says. It’s been two weeks since he returned from his mysterious sudden business trip to Van Nuys, and Gigi’s barely spoken ten words to him in that time. Actually, _he’s_ barely spoken ten words to _her_. Blame where blame is due.

“You’re worried about _me_?” Gigi asks, rolling over onto her stomach. She’s laying on the sectional sofa in the less formal of their penthouse apartment’s two living rooms, wearing her pyjamas, tangled up in her favorite comforter. It’s bright teal and looks out of place in the den, with its warm and subtle creams and tans, but she’s always found the color to be… well, comforting.

“Yes,” he says. “You haven’t been going out, you’ve barely been coming in to work, and I know you’re supposed to be in class right now.”

“I emailed my professor. She said I’m fine.” She looks up at William, clearly only out of bed at eleven. Granted, she had only forced herself up an hour ago. And now she’s half asleep on the sofa watching television. “I told her I had a family emergency.”

“You shouldn’t lie,” he says.

“I wasn’t lying.” She kicks her comforter off and sits up, leaning over the back of the sofa. He stands idly in the doorway, staring at the TV. “Are you alright?”

“I’m not the one…” he begins, but breaks off with a sigh halfway through the sentence. “I’ll be fine, Gigi.”

“I really think you should talk to her,” Gigi says, sitting down on the sofa. He sighs again, long-suffering, and moves to sit down on the arm of the sofa. She stares at him intently, but he doesn’t respond. “William, I _really_ think that she still likes you.”

“Please,” he responds, his voice strangled and tired. “I need you to stop.”

Gigi’s entire body deflates as she sinks into the sofa cushions. Her arms are crossed over her chest defensively. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to…” she begins. She can’t find the words, and huffs impatiently, wiggling her toes and stretching her feet to chase off the feelings of anxiety that pool in the arches of her feet. “I just wanted you to be happy.”

“I wish it could be that simple, Gigi,” he says. “But sometimes things are just complicated.”

“They don’t always have to be,” she protests. He just shakes his head.

“This time, though.”

They sit in silence for a while. It’s nice, but the sound of Gigi’s cartoons on the television is painfully trivial compared to the conversation they just had and it makes her feel young and stupid.

“I’m worried about you,” he reiterates. Gigi decides to humor him.

“Why?” she asks. He hems and haws for a second. Gigi thinks he is probably thinking of George, but he does not say anything about that. He never does.

“You seem… upset,” he says, eking out the words. “Upset that… that Lizzie is gone.” Gigi understands now why he is having so much difficulty speaking on the topic.

“Well yeah,” Gigi says. “ _Yes_ , I am. I like her. I think she’s cool. And,” she looks away as she says this, even though she’d had her gaze fixed on him before, “I’m upset for you, too.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a short sharp nod. “You have a great deal of emotional investment in…” He has a hard time choking out the next part of this sentence, so Gigi supplements for him.

“In your relationship with Lizzie?”

“Yes,” he says, sounding not at all relieved. “And I just wanted you to know, I’m fine. You don’t have to…” He gestures vaguely at her cartoon watching blanket nest.

“Well,” Gigi says, dropping her hands down on the pile of blankets in her lap so that the air wooshes out of them. “I’m fine if you’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” William assures her. She looks at him for a second before standing up, ambling over, and wrapping him in a hug. He hugs her back and again mutters an assurance that he is fine. When she pulls back, he stands up and ruffles her hair like he used to when she was little.

“Go to class,” he says. Then he retreats into his room.

Gigi can tell he’s not fine, but he has a point. She was so determined to convince Lizzie that her brother wasn’t all that bad. That they were actually kind of perfect for each other, if she could only just reconsider long enough to see it. Gigi is still so thoroughly convinced William and Lizzie could be great, and she really wants that for both of them.

But apparently things are complicated.

* * *

 

The second Tuesday in March, an invitation arrives at the Darcys’ apartment. When Gigi reads it, she literally screeches and tears off down the hallway. William is just emerging from his study, a look of dull panic on his face. She skitters to a halt in front of him, waving the invitation in front of his face, way too quickly and way too close for him to read it.

“Look, look, look,” she sing-songs, handing him the invitation. He grabs it from her, reads it over three times, and then retreats into his study without saying anything.

Later, at dinner, Gigi mentions it to Fitz.

“We,” she tells him dramatically. “Have been invited to Lizzie and Charlotte’s twenty-fifth birthday bash.”

“No kidding?” Fitz asks in a tone that suggests he is not really surprised at all.

“Yes,” she says, looking at William.

“As it so happens, I was also invited to that particular event.”

Gigi gasps in mock surprise with undertones of actual delight. “Maybe we’ll see you there!”

“Are we going?” William asks, arching an eyebrow. The comment is entirely deadpan and out of nowhere. It’s the first full sentence he’s gotten out all night. Since she gave him the invitation, even. Gigi looks between her two companions for a second, as flabbergasted as Fitz looks.

“ _Yes_ ,” she and Fitz eventually conclude in unison.

“You are absolutely going,” Fitz says. Gigi nods violently.

“I don’t know if it would be politic,” he says.

“It’d be politic _as hell_ ,” Gigi counters, a little more loudly than she maybe should have in the very nice restaurant they’re eating at. William gives her a look. She continues more quietly. “She invited us! It’d be rude not to go.”

“She invited Caroline as well,” William says. Gigi had been hoping he hadn’t seen that tweet. “Just because she invited us doesn’t mean she wants to see… us.”

“Noooo,” Fitz says. “It would’ve been rude to invite you and Bing and not invite Caroline. She wants see _you_ so much that she was willing to invite _Caroline_ to her birthday party.” Gigi purses her lips and stares at her plate while Fitz talks about Caroline. But at least the message seems to be getting through to William, who looks contemplative.

“Still,” he says, though she can hear the resolve weakening in his voice.

“Come on,” Gigi says, nudging William with her shoulder. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

* * *

 

Whatever the worst was, this certainly isn’t it.

They’re at the Bennet house, and even though Gigi has barely seen Lizzie all night she has a good feeling about things. There are a ton of people at this party, and she only knows five of them, which has been William’s excuse for not talking to Lizzie. He needs to stay with her.

“I’m really fine,” she says as they wander into the kitchen. “You should go talk to… _Lizzie hi I didn’t see you there_.”

The kitchen gets very quiet because it’s only the three of them and besides some very brief hellos a few hours ago, they haven’t seen each other since January. Gigi looks at William, who is looking at his feet.

“How are you?” Lizzie asks her. William looks up to see if Lizzie was talking to him and looks away immediately when he realizes that she wasn’t.

“I’m great!” Gigi says. “How are you?”

“Good, good,” Lizzie says. They all shuffle their feet for a moment. “Darcy?” she finally asks, peeking up at him from underneath her eyelashes.

“I’m well,” he says.

“Happy birthday, Lizzie,” Gigi says.

“Happy… birthday,” William echoes. Lizzie laughs and thanks them.

“Did you finish your independent study?” Gigi asks.

“I have one more company left to shadow,” Lizzie says. “In Los Angeles. I leave next week. It’s going to be kind of a squeeze to get everything done before June, but I’m… tentatively optimistic.”

“Good! That’s good.”

Lizzie then begins to mention that she should get back to her guests. Gigi does not let her finish, and instead interrupts.

“William brought you a present,” she says. Lizzie schools her expression carefully, but she seems intrigued.

“Oh?” she asks.

“I, uh… yes.”

Gigi takes this awkward response from her brother as her cue to leave. She seeks out Fitz and the two of them lurk in the living room, watching the kitchen doors closely. When William and Lizzie emerge, it is by Gigi’s count a full eleven minutes later. Lizzie is carrying the book William got her for her birthday under one arm, and they don’t look unhappy to be near each other, but they also don’t look like they’ve been making out. Gigi would be lying if she said she isn’t a little bit disappointed.

 

* * *

 

Gigi avoids William for the rest of the night in the hopes that this might force him to spend more time with Lizzie. Mostly, it just means that she gets to sit in a corner with Caroline, who looks uncharacteristically sullen.

“…so I’m thinking about going to New York for a while,” Caroline says. “What do you think?”  Gigi hasn’t really been paying attention, and she immediately feels bad. Even though William has been irritated with Caroline since November, and even though Fitz has never been particularly fond of her, Gigi’s always liked her. She simultaneously feels bad for her, because she’s always known that she likes William way more than William likes her, but there’s something in Caroline’s ambition and reserve that Gigi admires.

“New York’s nice,” Gigi says. “The city?”

“Upstate,” Caroline says. “I’m thinking about staying with my father for a while.”

“I think he’d like that,” Gigi says.

“I just need to get out of Los Angeles,” Caroline says. “It’s so… hot.”

“And the air’s so bad,” Gigi agrees. “I think Upstate would be a really good thing for you.”

“I think so too,” Caroline says.

“I’ll come visit you,” Gigi says. Caroline leans back in her seat, appraising her with new eyes. Gigi can see the gears always turning in her head. Always calculating, always trying to figure people out. It stings, a little, that Caroline has to reevaluate their friendship, even after everything. But Gigi understands. “We can go see Breakfast at Tiffany’s on Broadway,” Gigi suggests.

“I’d like that,” Caroline says, her voice taking on a quality that Gigi isn’t sure she’s ever heard in it before.

* * *

 

The party lasts well into the night, and after she has caught up with Bing and Caroline, and met Lizzie’s parents, and introduced herself to Charlotte and wished her a happy birthday, Gigi begins to feel uncomfortable there. She knows William would leave the party in a heartbeat if she asked him to, but she doesn’t want to do that.

Still, the house is so full of people she doesn’t know, and everyone she does know is otherwise engaged. Feeling caged, Gigi slips out the back into the back yard, which is small but nicely kept. There’s an orange tree at the far side, with a swing tied to one of the branches. Someone is swinging on it and drinking cheap champagne directly out of the bottle.

Gigi recognizes her almost immediately. It’d be hard not to, with that hair.

Apparently Lydia recognizes her, too, because when she sees her, she glowers.

Gigi can feel all the breath rush out of her, and she wonders if she should leave. But she ignores the flight response and decides… fight? Maybe it won’t have to be fight.

She waves tentatively, and though Lydia looks obstinate and confused, she waves back. Gigi wanders over, her arms crossed over her chest. Her heels sink into the soft dirt as she crosses the back yard and she kicks them off and picks them up.

“Hi,” she says when she’s a few feet away from Lydia’s swing.

“Hey,” Lydia says, staring at her with an expression she cannot name. Gigi swallows nervously. She fidgets with her shoes. “What are you doing here?” Lydia asks.

“I was just,” Gigi says. “Uh,” she continues. “I needed some air.”

“Oh, really?” She sounds mean when she says it. “I’m just trying to get away from all the _drama,_ ” Lydia says, with a hand gesture. She says that with some real vitriol, but then purses her lips and looks down at her lap. Her voice is softer when she speaks again. “I mean, it’s not… everyone’s just talking about my sisters.” Nobody’s talking about Lydia.

No, of course they aren’t, Gigi thinks.

Nobody ever talked about her, either.

“Well Lizzie and my brother seem to have figured things out at least,” Gigi says, trying to transition to a less awkward topic. That her brother’s relationship with Lizzie was her first thought when it came to “less awkward” says something. Lydia nods and takes a sip of her champagne.

“Jane and Bing too,” she says, staring contemplatively at the back porch. “My mom is literally going to shit a brick.”

“At least she’ll be happy about it,” Gigi says with an emphatic hand gesture. “Aunt Catherine is going to…” Well, for lack of a better term. “ _Shit a brick._ ”

Lydia laughs, which catches Gigi by surprise. It’s a nice surprise, though.

“Yeahhhh,” Lydia says, making a face. “I hope, when Darcy and Lizzie have their big white wedding, they have it here.” Gigi knows Lydia’s joking so she doesn’t say anything about how great she thinks that’d be. “Right here in this back yard. So all your super-rich relatives can come here and sit on our nicest lawn chairs and pretend they don’t think it’s all awful.” Gigi is so taken aback by this self-deprecation, this rude outburst, that she can’t say anything. She can’t even say that she and William don’t really _have_ relatives, outside of Aunt Catherine. “That’ll be _hilarious_.”

“I like your house,” Gigi says quietly.

“Really?” Lydia scoffs.

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s nice.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” she says, slightly irked. “It’s homey. It’s what a home should be like. And you guys have lived here all your lives, right?”

“Yeah,” Lydia says.

“That must’ve been nice.” Gigi wanders over to the orange tree and rests one of her hands on the trunk. “We were always moving around when I was a kid. My parents flipped properties as a hobby. They could never decide which one they wanted to live in, for good. I think they just liked the variety, being able to move every couple years.” Lydia makes a noise that suggests she doesn’t think of this as a particular hardship. “I’m just saying,” Gigi says.

“Mhmm.” Lydia offers her the champagne bottle. Gigi hesitates, stiffening up, and Lydia retracts it back, nursing it to her chest.

“Anyway,” Gigi says, feeling awful and ridiculous. “I should probably…”

“Yeah,” Lydia agrees. Gigi wonders if she should put her shoes back on, but decides against it, and begins to pick her way back across the lawn. “Hey,” Lydia shouts after her. She turns around, her heart thudding uncomfortably in her chest. “You’re not as bad as all that,” Lydia says.

Gigi takes the compliment without asking what _all that_ is.

* * *

 

When she gets home the next afternoon, Gigi discovers that Lydia has followed her on Twitter. She follows back.

A half hour later, she gets an email that Lydia has followed her on thisismyjam. Upon immediate inspection, Gigi discerns that her account is brand new. By this time, it’s nearly midnight, but Gigi stays up another hour and a half to see if Lydia will do anything else. She doesn’t, though. Gigi crawls into her bed at two in the morning, wrapping her arms tightly around her to fend off the feelings of foolishness that are nagging at the corners of her mind.

* * *

In the morning, Gigi has a tweet from Lydia about Bat for Lashes.

She’s so eager to make a good impression that she can’t decide on one song to recommend (because even though _she_ like Winter Fields, she feels like Lydia might like Laura better), so she ends up linking her to a playlist of twenty songs. Afterwards, she tweets Lydia again to ask what her music recommendations are.

“Lana del Rey,” Lydia tweets back. “Born to Die is my fav. Can’t stop listening to it.”

Gigi has never heard ninety percent of Lana del Rey’s music. A year ago, she had listened to Off to the Races on recommendation from a classmate who had insisted she’d love it because of the literary references. That classmate had failed to take into consideration Gigi’s reactive dislike of all things Nabakov, though, and the allusions combined with the cloying baby voice had turned Gigi off of Lana del Rey in general.

But Lydia has just confirmed through Twitter that she is in the middle of listening to the entire Bat for Lashes playlist, so Gigi opens iTunes and buys Born to Die.

As she listens to the song for the first time, she stares at her computer screen, entirely transfixed.

After it ends, she rips off her headphones and begins to root through her desk draw, looking for the wire that connects her laptop to the sound system in her bedroom.

William has, unsurprisingly, been spirited away to Los Angeles on “business”, so she doesn’t have to worry about him hearing her blasting the song on loop in her room. She plays it once, ten times, as she lays on her bed and stares contemplatively at the uneven spackling of her ceiling.

She can see where Lydia sees herself in the song. She can see bits of herself in it, too.

The lyrics are cynical and largely banal, but occasionally they strike home with her. The tune is eerie and revenant, which Gigi likes.

She runs her hands over the comforter she loves so much, rolls onto her stomach, and buries her face in her hands. She tries to clear her mind of everything but the deep crooning reiterations of _sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough, I don’t know why._

She tries to focus on Lydia’s mindframe instead of her own.

William is wrong about things all the time, but he was definitely right when he’d said that it would be a Very Bad Thing if she slipped back to the place she’d been in after George had left her. It’s not like she wants to go back there. She really doesn’t.

But if she’s been listening to this song the way Gigi has, Lydia’s there right now.

Her brother hadn’t let her help Lydia the first time around because he thought she wasn’t strong enough. But if there is one thing she has never felt remotely uncertain about, it’s that she has impeccable taste in music, so maybe she can do some good with that. Maybe she can even do it without getting hurt again in the process.

As the song restarts again, she rolls onto her back. She closes her eyes and tries to ignore every single thought that she has. She even tries to put the song out of her mind, focusing only on breathing in and out.

After a while, it feels like she is becoming the song, each breath trapping the lyrics inside her lungs, the bass line beating her heart for her.

 

* * *

She makes Born to Die her new jam. Lydia favorites the tweet.

* * *

After Lydia has grown tired of Bat for Lashes’ entire discography, she asks Gigi what else she should listen to. Gigi has typed out an entire tweet about Florence and the Machine and is about to hit enter when she changes her mind.

In her closet, balanced on the top of the inside of the doorframe, there is a sixty-four gigabyte thumb drive. She’d hid it there last July, on the day she’d decided she had to move on with her life. William didn’t know it existed; when she’d called him for their weekly catch-up, she’d only told him that she’d wiped all her art and graphic designs and the music and movies and photographs off of her laptop to help her get a fresh start. She _had_ taken them off her laptop, but they were still there, hidden in her closet. Even though he probably wouldn’t have taken it away from her if he’d known about it, Gigi knows that he’d disapprove.

She deletes the tweet about Florence and the Machine, stands up, and marches over to the closet like it is an enemy soldier. After she retrieves the thumb drive, she plugs it into her computer. Her hands do not shake, but she has an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

As she tabs through her old playlists, she is embarrassed that she didn’t just delete them entirely. Before just now, she hadn’t even thought of the thumb drive in months. She can’t say she regrets making it right at this moment, because it makes it so much easier to find the song she is thinking of, but she can’t help but ruminate on why she’d decided to save all this stuff in the first place.

It definitely hadn’t been in case she needed to help someone else down the line.

She finds the song she was thinking of and compose a laconic tweet to Lydia, listing only the title and name. “Stars,” it says. “Elevator Love Letter.”

With this information she offers no further explanation. Lydia is smart enough to figure it out on her own.

* * *

William calls her from LA to say that his business there has been extended through the end of the month. And that he might have to house-sit for Bing at Netherfield indefinitely after that. Gigi teases him about this for several minutes but secretly she is thrilled.

“I saw that you’ve been speaking to Lydia,” he says, employing all his usual subtlety with topic changes. “About music.” Gigi feels very strongly for a second that she has been caught doing something wrong, but he continues. “That’s good.”

“Yeah. _Yes_.” Gigi corrects herself while tracing over the pattern of her tights with her fingertips. It’s not actually that surprising that William doesn’t know enough about her taste in music to understand the meaning behind the songs she and Lydia exchanged. He’s never listened to her music. One time he’d mixed up Gotye and Mumford and Sons. He’s really not in the zeitgeist. “She’s cool.”

“I’m glad the two of you get along,” he says.

“Me too,” she agrees quietly.

“Lizzie says that she needs friends that are better for her.”

Gigi doesn’t say anything.

“That are… more reliable,” he amends.

“I can be reliable,” she responds. He seems satisfied by this answer and tells her that he has to go because he and Lizzie have reservations for dinner. When she tells him she doesn’t want to keep him from that, she isn’t lying even a little bit.

* * *

Gigi wonders if Lydia got a similar call from Lizzie, because the next she sends her a recommendation, she does it on direct message.

However, there is no doubt in her mind that Lydia got the message, because the song is entitled “Swimmers”.

Gigi does not want to listen to the song. She stares at the title for twenty minutes, her lips pressed into a thin line, her palms resting flat on her desk. Her stomach roils. She feels a little bit dizzy. But, she thinks, she is stronger now. Besides, this song isn’t anything more than another _I understand_. That’s what the Stars song had been. It was just a message. It was not an attack.

This is not an attack. It’s an _I understand_.

Lydia just understands.

She listens to the song.

It’s pretty good, but it’s just.

She ends up on her bed again, hugging one of her many pillows to her chest as the song plays. It’s not a bad song. She kind of likes it. She kind of likes thinking about as a song that’s just for her and Lydia, and not for anything else.

But.

She wonders, sometimes.

She wonders if maybe William was right. She wonders if she was better when she just never thought about any of this.

She remembers that this isn’t about her. It’s about Lydia.

In response to Lydia’s direct message, she sends back a song by the same singer playing with a different band. The song is called Twilight Galaxy and Lydia messages her back not twenty minutes later to show her an acoustic cover of the song that she likes better. Gigi has to say she agrees.

* * *

Lydia loves Marina and the Diamonds. It’s one of Gigi’s new favorites.

By the time Lydia makes the song Guilty her new jam, Gigi is familiar enough with the band to recognize the song by its title. On thisismyjam she’s left a mildly dramatic message about nobody believing or understanding her anyway in the comments section. For some reason, the idea that this song is one that Lydia identifies with makes Gigi angry. She wants to message her to say that nothing is her fault, that nothing that happened is her fault at all, but they don’t talk about it.

They haven’t ever talked about it, not directly. Gigi is too afraid to pull the rug out from under whatever she and Lydia have built together.

But she has to find a way to say something.

She idly skips through songs, discarding them each after thirty seconds or less. It seems impossible to her that she’ll ever find one that says what she really wants to say. She stays up all night, trying to find just the song.

In the morning, she tweets the song Two Birds by Regina Spektor at Lydia. It’ll have to do.

For the first time, when Lydia responds, all she says is thank you.

* * *

In late April, Lydia tweets her followers to say that she has finals coming up and needs new study music.

Gigi glances at the thumb drive, which is still sitting on her desk, and makes a decision.

She wipes everything from it. Months of her artwork, months of photographs and homework and everything else from that time in her life. Just gone. It’s easier than she had thought it would be.

On the now-blank thumb drive, she puts her entire iTunes library. She overnights it to Lydia.

Lydia doesn’t say anything about it on Twitter, but Gigi gets it back a week later. When she opens it on her computer, she sees that the files have been sorted into two folders: Gigi’s Music and Lydia’s Music.

Gigi adds Lydia’s iTunes library to her own.

* * *

She listens to Miley Cyrus’s entire discography for Lydia, who has apparently been a fan since the Hannah Montana days. She enjoys a couple of the more recent songs way more than she thought she would. She thinks back to that one Taylor Swift song she’d liked so much and decides that she needs to branch out in her musical tastes a little more. Branching out can be a really good thing.

On Twitter, she makes a post about broadening horizons to something of that same effect. Lydia and Lizzie both favorite the tweet, though Gigi suspects they do it for very different reasons.

* * *

By the time William has to come back from Netherfield to check in with the San Francisco offices, Gigi has grown accustomed to blasting her music over the apartment’s sound system. When he comes back from work on the first night, his face is twisted into a displeased grimace.

“What are you listening to?” he asks. She looks up from her homework, trying to muster an innocent expression.

“Carly Rae Jepsen,” she responds.

“ _Why_?” William asks, sounding truly pained. Gigi just smiles to herself.

* * *

 

While Gigi works her way through Lydia’s music library, Lydia does the same with hers. It’s a bigger task for Lydia than it is for her; her library is almost five times the size of Lydia’s. But Lydia seems grateful for it, and occasionally tweets to mention how much she likes a particular song of Gigi’s.

It’s been so long since she listened to some of the songs that when Lydia tweets them, it’s like they’ve both discovered something new.

One of those songs is What If by Meg & Dia. Gigi _loved_ Meg & Dia once, but hasn’t listened to any of their music in almost a year. She plays the song through Lydia’s thisismyjam page while she picks at her mid-afternoon snack and sorts through her study guide for her upcoming final in art history.

She likes the song. She always has, but she likes it more in this new context. It’s a good song for Lydia, she thinks. It’s resilient and triumphant.

It’s definitely a departure from Born to Die.

* * *

Lydia’s iTunes library is a total mess, and Gigi spends a considerable amount of time just sorting it out. She has a ton of orphaned songs, just one single song from an album or artist. Most of the tracks don’t have their cover art. Some of them are not even labeled properly – there are at least a hundred songs that are just titled “Track 8” or “Unnamed Track 2”.

Gigi’s never been the orderly one in her family. William’s got that role covered in spades. Literally everything in their apartment has been labeled. She’s never felt the compulsion to do anything like that before, but she _has_ gotten used to it over the years.

Plus, she doesn’t like the idea of letting vast parts of Lydia’s music library go undiscovered. So she goes through all of the songs, playing them, listening to the lyrics, Googling, updating the track information.

Normally it’d be really unforgiving work, but she finds herself having fun.

She starts in on the twentieth or thirtieth track. The tempo is upbeat and cheery, and she nods along in time to it, scribbling notes down on her study guide as she listens to the lyrics.

_I’m rolling the dice, got the wind in my hair, I’m gonna kill my boyfriend, yeah._

She’s lucky she wasn’t drinking anything because she snorts so hard it hurts. She presses her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing outright as she listens to the rest of the song, but the cheery beat and bright tone in juxtaposition with the lyrics does her in and she laughs. She laughs in a manic way, because even though there’s something inside her that’s been fracturing for weeks, she has never heard a song she likes quite as much as this one.

She looks it up and makes it her new jam immediately and @replies Lydia in the tweet thanking her for sending her the song.

For a few minutes, she regrets the decision, because she knows Lydia will see it. She worries that Lydia won’t find it funny, that maybe something inside of Lydia is more than just fracturing. That she definitely hasn’t had enough time to put herself back together yet.

But Lydia favorites the tweet and rejams the song.

For the first time since they’ve met, the digital interaction isn’t quite enough for Gigi. She wants to know what Lydia is thinking, and if she’s alright. If she thought the song was funny, or…

She just can’t tell from her tweets.

* * *

 When William asks her if she wants to spend the summer at Netherfield with him and Bing, Gigi does not hesitate to say yes.


	2. Summer Parties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at the Bennets' is not as scary as Gigi was expecting it to be; Lizzie is happy to see her, and Jane is as sweet as ever, and Mrs. Bennet gives her a hug which is actually kind of nice. Lydia isn’t there, though.

Gigi doesn’t remember most of the ribbon cutting ceremony at the Memorial Hall at Pemberley Digital. She had only been fourteen, and already so focused on getting through her life one day at a time. Her memories from that time in her life are largely vague, distorted, and tinted with a deep shade of depression.

She remembers very clearly, though, pinching the hem of William’s suit jacket tightly between her forefinger and her thumb as she followed him through the crowd and to the stage. She remembers holding onto it like a lifeline, remembers feeling like she was drowning even though the crowd was full of old family friends and familiar faces.

She’d never felt so terrified by the prospect of speaking to a room of friends before. She’s never really felt that way again since. She’s stronger now, in more ways than one.

But as she follows William into the Bennet family’s home for this first dinner, her fingertips ghost towards the hem of his coat.

It’s not as scary as she’s expecting it to be; Lizzie is happy to see her, and Jane is as sweet as ever, and Mrs. Bennet gives her a hug which is actually kind of nice.

Lydia isn’t there, though.

Gigi doesn’t ask about it until they’ve sat down to dinner and everyone’s started eating. She’s been wondering for an hour now, but she couldn’t quite get the courage up to say anything about it because for some reason thinking about Lydia makes her feel stupid and talking about Lydia terrifies her even more.

“Where’s Lydia?” Gigi finally asks Lizzie while Mr. and Mrs. Bennet argue about an investigative report they saw on the local news last night.

“Oh, she’s just upstairs,” Lizzie says. And before Gigi has a chance to stop her, she turns around in her seat and yells up the hallway that leads to the staircase. “Lydia! Come down here! Gigi wants to see you.”

Gigi’s face burns hot and she wants to crawl underneath the dinner table or disappear.

No response comes from upstairs, but soon Lydia appears at the foot of the stairs, quiet and mirage-like. She leans her head against the doorframe.

“I told you, I don’t feel good,” she says. Gigi is vaguely aware that everyone else has stopped talking and is paying attention to Lydia now.

“You were fine earlier today,” Lizzie says. “You can come say hi for five minutes.”

Lydia’s eyes land on Gigi. “Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” Gigi replies, looking at her hands and wishing she had something to do with them.

“Are you in town for long?” Lydia asks. She moves towards the table and pulls out a chair, sitting down between Jane and her father. She’s wearing a dark green blouse that Gigi recognizes as belonging to Lizzie.

“I’m here for the summer parties,” Gigi says, and Lydia nods, needing no further explanation. The phrase _the summer parties_ is becoming mythic in their social circle. Between now and Bing and Jane’s late September wedding in five months, the Bennets and Lees have collectively planed fourteen various parties, brunches, and get-togethers. It’s actually fifteen, counting the surprise birthday party for William that Lizzie wheedled Gigi into helping her plan. “I like it here. Netherfield’s beautiful.”

“That’s fun,” Lydia says, sounding disinterested. “Anyway, I really don’t feel good…”

“Well,” Gigi says.

“What?”

“You don’t feel _well_.”

Lydia’s eyes narrow and Gigi ducks her head, wondering if she should apologize. “I don’t feel well,” Lydia says after a moment, standing up as she speaks. “So I’m going to go back to my room.”

Nobody stops her as she leaves, and Gigi says very little for the rest of dinner. 

* * *

 

The next Saturday finds Gigi back at the Bennets’ house for the first of the summer parties: Lizzie’s graduation reception. She’s spent pretty much the entire week hanging out with one Bennet or another, but Lizzie’s graduation party is the first time she sees Lydia looking more or less like herself. She’s gotten her hair trimmed a couple inches since Gigi saw her last week, and she’s wearing it down instead of up in a ponytail. She’s not wearing a dress like her sisters are, but looks well put-together and is smiling as she chats with Bing and Jane.

William and Bing are too caught up in the Bennet sisters to pay attention to her tonight and Caroline and Fitz aren’t in town for the event, so Gigi hangs around the kitchen, feeling again a little lost in the crowd of the Bennets’ family friends.

She’s leaning against the counter, picking through a bowl of mixed nuts that has already had all the peanuts picked out of it, when someone joins her in the kitchen.

“Can I hide in here with you?” the newcomer asks, and it takes Gigi a little longer than it should to place a name to her face.

“Sure,” she says, standing up straighter. “You’re… Charlotte’s sister, right?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Maria. And you’re Gigi. We met at Charlotte’s birthday party.”

“Oh, I know,” Gigi says, feeling a little bad that she hadn’t been able to remember the name more easily. She’d met so many people that night, though. “And… yeah, hide away.” She smiles. “I’m not really a fan of crowds.”

“Me either,” Maria agrees, joining Gigi at the counter and tugging the bowl of nuts closer towards her. “I mean I usually don’t mind them but right now my mom’s getting all weird.”

“Weird?” Gigi asks.

“Yeah, like about the fact Lizzie finished grad school and Charlotte didn’t. Mrs. Bennet won’t stop talking about it either. They’ve been friends for longer than I’ve been alive but they get so competitive about stuff.”

“Well that’s silly,” Gigi says, tempering her response to be light and airy. “Charlotte has a great job.”

“Yeah! She does. It’s super great. I did an internship there over the summer, it was so cool. And I mean like a few months ago my mom was totally bragging about how her daughter is employed and out in the world and already successful, so I guess it’s fair that now Mrs. Bennet gets to brag about Lizzie.”

“They’re both pretty great,” Gigi says. Maria agrees enthusiastically.

“Hey,” she says, changing topics on a dime. “Isn’t Catherine de Bourgh your aunt?”

“Oh,” Gigi says. “Yes, she is.”

“That must be so cool.”

“I guess it is,” Gigi agrees. She’s never really thought of it as cool, but then again, she’s never really thought about it at all. Her aunt’s ever-presence in her life isn’t something she’s taken for granted, but it is what it is.

“I mean you could probably work for any of her companies if you wanted to,” Maria continues, gazing off into the distance. Gigi can see the familiar haze of imagination clouding her eyes.

“Oh, I already work at Pemberley Digital,” she says.

“Duh,” Maria replies, smacking herself in the forehead. “That’s so cool too. It’s so awesome that your family is so into new media. I guess my family is too though! I’m still trying to talk Charlotte into letting me do a longer internship at Collins and Collins.”

“Well if that doesn’t work out you should apply for an internship at Pemberley,” Gigi replies. Maria’s eyes go wide and her mouth drops open.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Gigi says. “We’re actually looking for vloggers right now. I saw the videos you did for Collins and Collins.”

“Oh my God, really? That is so awesome.”

“Here,” Gigi says, pulling her phone out. “What’s your twitter? I’ll send you the info.”

They swap information and follow each other and Maria prods her phone a couple times after they’re all done, flipping through Gigi’s twitter. Gigi feels oddly exposed as she watches the other girl read her twitter profile.

“You like the Hunger Games?” Maria asks after a second.

“Yeah,” Gigi says, breathing a sigh of relief.

“I love the Hunger Games,” Maria says. “Lizzie does too but whenever I try to talk to her about it she’s busy. Who’s your favorite character? What did you think of the last book? Wasn’t it sad when…”

Maria can talk just about as fast as Gigi can and once they get into talking about the books, there’s really no getting out of it. They’re loudly sorting out the topic of the love triangle and who should’ve ended up with who when they’re interrupted.

“What are you guys talking about?” Lydia’s question comes quiet but not weak. Gigi looks up at her. She’s leaning in the doorframe again, hanging around the house like a restless ghost.

“The Hunger Games,” Gigi says. “They’re… books,” she adds artlessly.

“I know,” Lydia says, entering the kitchen. “I saw the movie. And I’m going to see the next one too. Sam Claflin is totally hot.”

This remark sparks a long conversation about the physical merits of each of the cast members. Gigi finds herself silently observing as Maria and Lydia argue whether or not Jena Malone is good-looking enough to play Johanna (Maria apparently thinks no, but Lydia is vehemently for it). Knowing that Maria and Lydia have known each other for their entire lives makes her feel like the odd one out. Besides which, it’s the most she’s heard Lydia talk in person ever. She doesn’t dare interrupt that with her presence, so she lets their conversation run its course.

* * *

 

Eventually the party dies down and Mrs. Lu collects her daughter to take her home. The other guests filter out slowly until it’s just the family – with the additions of Bing, William, and Gigi herself. They all sit around the living room, holding half-empty wine glasses, chatting, idly beginning to clean.

Gigi feels a welcome part of it all and a stranger at the same time. She likes sitting in between William and Jane on the Bennets’ sofa, likes being treated like an adult even though she’s the youngest one there. She likes Mr. Bennet’s genuine interest in what she’s studying. She likes watching Lizzie bend over to wrap Lydia in a half-hug as she walks by her chair. She laughs when Lydia tries to kiss Lizzie’s cheek in retaliation and Lizzie pushes her away. It’s all nice, but it’s also a little overwhelming.

When Lizzie squishes her way onto the sofa between her and William, Gigi vacates to make room for her. It would’ve been too claustrophobic for both her and her brother if she’d stayed. Gigi hovers awkwardly by the door to the back porch for a moment, observing the conversation as it shifts towards the topic of Bing’s charity work. She slips out into the back yard unnoticed.

The Bennets live thirty minutes outside of Fresno, and the summer nights are so different here than they are in San Francisco. The air is warm and still, and the starry sky isn’t as blotted out by the lights of the city. She wanders across the yard and sits down on Lydia’s swing, rocking herself back and forth gently with the toe of her shoe. She watches the Bennet family through the double glass doors of the back porch for a moment, just a casual observer at a comfortable distance, and then closes her eyes as she swings.

She’s wrapped up in her own thoughts, but not so much so that she doesn’t hear Lydia approaching her hiding spot only minutes later. She keeps her eyes closed until Lydia speaks.

“You’re not much of a party person, huh?” Lydia asks. Gigi looks up from her, dragging her foot on the ground to still the swing.

“I’m having a great time,” Gigi says, hoping she sounds urbane.

“You bailed,” Lydia points out.

“I’m having a great time…” Gigi starts again, wrapping her fingers around the ropes of the swing a little tighter. “I’m just tired, now.”

“Okay, sure,” Lydia says, crossing in front of her to lean against the trunk of the orange tree. She tilts her head up to look at the sky through the leaves and branches. Gigi glances skyward as well. “How’s your stay been?”

“Nice,” Gigi says immediately. “I like it here. Netherfield is beautiful.”

“You mentioned,” Lydia says. Gigi looks at her feet, scratches a circle in the soft soil with the toe of her shoe. “Sorry,” she says.

“For what?” Gigi asks. Lydia shrugs, picking at her nail polish as she speaks.

“Not being around. I knew you were coming. I was going to…” she pauses, swallows something she was about to say. Gigi looks at her expectantly, her fingernails biting into her palms as she waits for Lydia to speak again. “It’s just different than I thought it’d be. And I haven’t been doing really well this week. I’ve been… tired.”

“I get that,” Gigi says.

“I wish I was doing better,” Lydia says. “Jane and Lizzie are back now, so that should… I thought it’d get easier.”

“What would?” Gigi prompts quietly.

“I don’t know,” Lydia sighs. “I’m in there right now, talking about how Jane and Bing are thinking about adopting a puppy, and it’s just… it’s harder than I’d thought it’d be.”

“Do you want to talk about something else?” Gigi asks, her voice breathier than she wants it to be.

Lydia stares at her for a very long couple seconds. “No,” she says, looking away. “No, I want to talk about Bing and Jane’s puppy.”

Gigi’s mouth is dry and she’s so scared she won’t be able to pull this off, but she wraps her hand tightly around her own wrist and opens her mouth to speak. “I think they’re talking about getting a rescue dog,” she says, but she can’t look at Lydia’s face to see her reaction to this. “I always wanted to have a pet, but William’s never liked animals. He wouldn’t even let me get a cat.”

“He seems like he’d be a cat person.”

“I think he would be, if they didn’t shed and scratch up furniture.”

“You’re a dog person?” Lydia asks. Gigi hazards a glance at her and she looks impassive, but not upset, and she supposes that that’s enough.

“I like both! I would’ve loved to have either as a pet,” Gigi enthuses as genuinely as she can. Lydia picks her weight up off the tree, still fidgeting with her fingers.

“I have a cat,” Lydia says. “If you want to play with her.”

Gigi agrees mutely and only feels vaguely ridiculous as Lydia drags her back through the living room and up the stairs, in front of everyone. They go into Lydia’s room, which Gigi recognizes vaguely from her videos, all dark colors and drapery. Kitty has been locked up here all evening because of the party, so she is attention-deprived and has no problem crawling all over Gigi’s lap to stick her nose in Gigi’s face as she sits on the floor next to Lydia.

“She likes you,” Lydia says with a smirk.

“She’s a sweetheart,” Gigi says, scratching the cat behind her ears. Kitty curls up on her lap as she pets her and Lydia pulls her knees up to her chin.

They talk for a while about how Lydia found the cat and convinced her parents to let her keep her, and they swap childhood stories about their older siblings. Gigi swears that when William interrupts them to say it’s time to go home, they’ve only been talking for ten or twenty minutes. But they don’t get back to Netherfield until nearly two in the morning, so it must have been much longer than that.

* * *

 

 Every time Lizzie and William have invited Gigi out to Carter’s with them since she’s arrived in town, she has obliged. She doesn’t really like bars and always ends up leaving before everyone else does, but she always goes. Her time here in town, her time with Bing and Jane and Lizzie and William, is something that she knows wasn’t certain. If things had happened any differently than they did, she wouldn’t be here right now, and she can’t stop reminding herself of that. So she spends as much time with the happy couples as she can.

The first time she shows up there and sees that Lizzie and Jane have brought Lydia with them, which has never happened before, Gigi realizes that she may have had a subconscious ulterior motive in spending so much time in what she knows to be one of Lydia’s favorite haunts.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” she says as she and Lydia lean against the bar. It’s noisy, so she has to speak loudly and lean in close for Lydia to hear her.

“Yeah,” Lydia says, looking ill at ease. “I haven’t been here in a while.”

“I’ve been here… a lot, in the last few weeks,” Gigi laughs. “Lizzie drags us here all the time.”

“She has so much free time now she has no idea what to do with it,” Lydia explains. “She’s been so busy twenty four seven for the last year that she forgot how to relax and now she’s overcompensating.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Hells no,” Lydia says, her signature élan returning to her tone. She takes a sip of her drink, which is violently blue and leaves a sleepy citric smell on her breath. “Lizzie needs to relax a _lot_.”

“Well I doubt she’ll be relaxing too much, with the wedding coming up.”

“Yeah, but she has me to help her out with that,” Lydia waves the comment off. “I’m so good at planning parties and she’s great at calming Jane down. We’re a dream team.”

“Cool,” Gigi says. “I bet it’ll be an amazing wedding.”

“Oh, it _will_ be.” Lydia smirks. “Speaking of, I need you for a dress fitting on Monday.”

“Hmm?” Gigi makes the noise into her drink, which is not the most graceful thing she’s ever done, but Lydia has caught her by surprise.

“Jane and Bing want to ask you to be a bridesmaid,” Lydia explains. “And Mary’s gonna keep avoiding the dress fitting until I make her go, so I figured we could all go together on Monday.”

“Oh…” Gigi says, fluffing her hair nervously as she glances around the bar. “Alright.”

“Cool,” Lydia says, picking her drink up. “Let me know if you need a ride into Fresno.” She flounces off, leaving Gigi alone at the bar, her drink still cupped between her hands. 

* * *

 

She ends up meeting Lydia at Fulton Mall, because she’s not really sure what they would talk about alone in the car for thirty minutes together. She makes the excuse of having other business in Fresno that day, so she drives her rental into the city a couple hours before she’s supposed to meet Lydia. She meanders around, and the city is really great, but it’s hot and she feels vaguely ill, so she ends up sitting in the mall’s coffee shop while she waits for Lydia to show up.

When she does, Lydia plops down at Gigi’s table with a friendly greeting, holding a cup of iced coffee in one hand. “Mary’s a loser so she’s going to be late,” Lydia tells her, and Gigi wants to pitch and a fit and cry because she just wants to try the dress on and go home. She doesn’t. She smiles. “So we have some time to kill.”

“What do you want to do?” Gigi asks.

“I dunno,” Lydia says, kicking her converse-clad feet up on the free chair next to Gigi. “This mall is huge, though. I’m sure we can find something to do.”

And Gigi has to admit, winding in and out of the little shop fronts of the pedestrian mall with Lydia isn’t that bad, even in the sweltering weather.

While they’re hanging around in an electronics store, Gigi notices Lydia eying a pair of stylish headphones, good quality and charming pink in color.

“You should get those,” Gigi suggests, hovering over Lydia’s shoulder. “They’d sound a lot better than those earbuds you have now.”

“Oh,” Lydia says, looking at Gigi like she’s sprouted an extra limb. “I can’t really afford these. They’re like three hundred dollars.”

Gigi wants to knock her own head against the display counter, because she really should have learned her lesson about this after Lizzie had reminded her that the Bennets were not really skiiers.

“I can buy them for you,” Gigi blurts out, picking the headphones up.

“No, no,” Lydia says, shaking her head. “It’s like… _three hundred dollars_. I can’t just let you buy them for me.”

“Well, what if it was a present?” Gigi asks, tapping her fingers against the plastic of the headphones. She grapples, trying to think of a good way to make this situation less awkward. “Your half-birthday is on Wednesday,” she suggests. Lydia stares at her, an expression that Gigi cannot read on her face. Her lips quirk up into a small smile, but she doesn’t say anything. “Twenty one and a half is an important birthday,” Gigi says, literally unable to stop talking even though she knows she should. “It’s a palindrome.”

“Uh huh,” Lydia says, turning away from her.

“It’s the same forwards and backwards,” Gigi continues. Lydia nods.

“Alright,” she says. “But you have to get a gift receipt. And wrap it.”

Gigi smiles, relaxing. “Deal,” she says. “As long as you act surprised when you open it.” 

* * *

 

Mary shows up half an hour late and the dress fitting goes as well as a bridesmaid dress fitting possibly can. Gigi thinks she looks ridiculous in the dress because she’s four inches taller than Lydia and Mary and the butterscotch yellow color doesn’t look as good against her skin as it does against theirs, but she doesn’t complain. Mary has that role covered in spades.

“Do I have to wear that dress though,” she whines afterwards, when they’re eating lunch at California Pizza Kitchen together. Gigi is alone on her side of the booth and she glances over at Lydia’s cousin, who is resting her head against the table dramatically.

“Yes,” Lydia says.

“Does Jane even want me as a bridesmaid?” Mary complains.

“Yes,” Lydia responds more tersely.

“You probably made her do it.”

“Mary,” Lydia snips.

“I mean, whatever, weddings. I’d wear a dress to _your_ wedding if you wanted me to. But I don’t know about this.”

“I’d make you my maid of honor if Mom hadn’t set up a rotation for the three of us when I was _seven_ ,” Lydia says, rolling her eyes. “Jane’s got dibs on that job. Anyway, you have to do it for symmetry reasons.”

“Please don’t talk to me about conceptually symmetrical weddings again,” Mary says.

“It’s not conceptual. It’s Lizzie, you, and me on Jane’s side and Darcy, Gigi, and Caroline on Bing’s. It’s literally symmetry.”

“Shouldn’t Caroline and I have different dresses from you three, if…” Gigi begins hopefully.

“No,” Lydia interrupts. Gigi sinks back in her seat.

“Weddings suck,” Mary says, looking to Gigi for support. Lydia stares at her too. Gigi has absolutely no idea what to say here.

“I’m just going to let people wear whatever they want to my wedding,” Gigi says in a bid to be diplomatic. Lydia scoffs.

“I’ll make sure to wear something really dumb then,” Lydia says.

“Like what?” Gigi asks.

“Like a dress with different horse breeds printed all over it.”

“I had one of those when I was nine,” Mary remarks solemnly. “You could borrow it.”

They are all dead silent for a beat and then they all laugh.

It’s natural and companionable and it’s honestly the best Gigi has felt all day. After that, spending time with Lydia and Mary is easy and she finds herself doing it more often, even though it means driving out to Fresno on a regular basis.

* * *

 

Lizzie and Jane are over at Netherfield literally all the time and Gigi begins to get to know them better. It’s an opportunity that she is so glad for, because they are amazing people and just the kind of older sisters Gigi has always secretly wished she had.

The morning of the second of the summer parties – Jane and Bing’s engagement party – Gigi wanders into the kitchen at Netherfield and finds Lizzie and Jane frantically baking about twelve dozen cupcakes. Because this is a herculean task for two people, Gigi offers to help.

“Yes, please,” Jane says, motioning her over. She joins them at the far side of the kitchen, in the middle of their cupcake-making mess. They both have their hair up in messy ponytail buns and they wear matching expressions of frantic resolve.

“The freaking catering company cancelled on us,” Lizzie explains, rubbing her eyes. “Darcy’s out right now buying every supermarket clean of all their lamb chops. No, forget about that. I don’t even want to start thinking about the main course yet.”

“Why did we invite so many people?” Jane frets, handing Gigi a bowl of chocolate buttercream frosting as big as her entire head. She holds it in front of her, not knowing what she’s supposed to be doing with it. It’s heavy so she puts it on the counter in front of Lizzie, who promptly pulls the spoon out and eats it straight.

“Do you think people will notice if we just give them chopped lettuce instead of salad?” she asks as she puts the spoon into the sink.

“Maybe if you put fancy dressing on it and call it _laitue fraiche,_ ” Gigi suggests.

“Nice,” Lizzie says, smiling mischievously at her. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Lizzie,” Jane says, sounding panicked and vaguely authoritative at the same time. “Please help me with the frosting.”

Lizzie motions with her head that Gigi should follow her, so she does. They stand side-by-side at the counter, occasionally bumping elbows as they frost cupcake after cupcake.

“So how’s your week been?” Lizzie asks. “I feel like I haven’t really seen you…” She trails off, as if she’s only just realizing that this is abnormal. Gigi had barely left the house her first week at Netherfield and had barely been in it the second.

“Oh,” Gigi says. “I’ve been helping Lydia. And Mary. With things.”

“Oh good,” Jane says, leaning forward so she can smile at her from behind Lizzie. “Do you like Mary?”

“Yeah, Mary’s great,” Gigi says honestly. “I think she thinks I’m a little weird though.”

“That’s just how she is,” Lizzie reassures her quietly. Jane nudges her with her shoulder and Lizzie pushes her sister back.

“I’m so glad you’re spending more time with them,” Jane continues, her tone warm and reassuring. “I’m glad Mary and especially you are there for Lydia.”

“Yeah, of course,” Gigi says, her stomach twinging in the way it usually does when she feels like someone might be thinking about her past with George.

“Lizzie and I talk all the time about how glad we are the two of you are friends,” Jane continues. For some reason, even though her voice is still so comforting, her words burrow under Gigi’s skin and rest there, irritative and biting.

“Yeah,” Lizzie says. “Lydia’s school friends are kind of… they’re not in it for the long haul. They’re not supportive.”

“They’re not bad people,” Jane hurries to insist.

“They’re just not what she needs right now,” Lizzie concludes.

“What does she need?” Gigi asks quietly, setting a cupcake down carefully on the cooling rack.

“Just… people who care,” Jane says. “Like us, and you.”

“People who won’t drop her like a hot potato just because she needs to take some time to herself,” Lizzie adds.

“Mostly I think she just needs space to figure out who she is, and support in that once she does,” Jane reflects. “She told me she’s spent her whole life feeling like she needs to be what other people are expecting her to be. Being something she wasn’t just became what she was.”

Lizzie has gotten quiet as she frosts her cupcakes, but chimes in after Jane has finished. “And then after that fight I had with her… she didn’t know what to do anymore.”

Gigi puts down her knife and cupcake to pat Lizzie on the shoulder in a way that she hopes is somewhat comforting. Lizzie smiles at her in the thin, amused way she always smiles at William, though, so Gigi posits she failed at comfort, but least she’s smiling.

* * *

 

After all the guests from the engagement party are long gone home, Gigi finds herself lying awake in her bed at Netherfield, staring at the slanted wooden panels of her ceiling. Jane’s words have been drifting in and out of her mind all evening.

She’s been disingenuous about her feelings towards Lydia. She’s been disingenuous to Jane and Lizzie, to William, to Lydia, to herself.

She introspects, and introspects carefully, because she knows herself well enough to know that she’s a hopeless romantic. She examines her own emotions, and she does it with uncomfortable scrutiny, because she knows it’s necessary.

What she decides is this: there is no point in ripping herself up over being a bad friend to Lydia, because when it comes right down to it, being Lydia’s friend is every bit as important to her as whatever burgeoning curiosity she’s been trying to ignore these last few weeks.

But it is something she wants to explore.

There is a small measure of relief she gets from admitting this, even silently, but mostly it is a problem.

As she stares at the ceiling, she composes a list of three goals.

She does not want to ask anything of Lydia that is unfair to her.

She does not want to make Lydia into something she is not.

She does not want to get hurt again.

It’s possible, she realizes, that these goals are not concordant. It’s possible that it’ll be impossible altogether.

* * *

 

Another party and a disastrous family brunch later, Caroline flies into town shortly before the Lee parents for the Fourth of July. Everyone is busy so Gigi is tasked with picking her up from the airport. She’s informed of this chore as if she drew the short straw, but she would have volunteered if someone had asked her.

Caroline slips into Gigi’s car, breezy and effortlessly beautiful as ever. She pulls her sunglasses off and waves the attendant who put her luggage in the trunk on his way with a small charming smile.

“Hi,” Gigi says, leaning over to give her a half-hug. Caroline returns the favor, clutching her a little tighter than the way they’re bending over the gearshift should allow.

“Hi,” Caroline says. “I missed you.”

“I did too,” Gigi admits. They haven’t seen each other since Gigi spent her spring break with Caroline in New York City, which had been fun and surprisingly relaxing. Caroline catches her up on everything that has happened to her since then, and then pumps her for information on what’s been going on in California.

“Everything’s great,” Gigi says. “We’re all a little stressed out, but you know how that is.”

“Do I,” Caroline agrees. “Bing calls me every week to tell me how things are going, but he always makes sure to make it sound like everything is going smoother than it probably is.”

“Well, he’s so happy, he might just not notice the little stuff,” Gigi reasons. Caroline hums in response.

“And your brother?” Caroline asks.

“He’s really happy too,” Gigi says, glancing away from the road for half a second to appraise Caroline’s expression. She’s staring out the passenger side window, though.

“Good,” she says after a pause.

“Caroline,” Gigi begins, not really knowing how to ask. “I know you really like my brother,” she says. Caroline makes a small noise in defeated affirmation. “Do you still?”

“I mean,” Caroline sighs. “Yes. That doesn’t just go away. But I know when to cut my losses.”

“I didn’t mean…” Gigi starts.

“Gigi, I know I’m better than chasing after someone who’s not interested in being with me. I just wish I’d realized it a little sooner.”

Gigi is silent for a very long time, and eventually Caroline switches the topic to her parents’ impending arrival. They make banal small talk for the rest of the ride back to Netherfield, and not for the first time, Gigi is thankful for Caroline’s social grace.

* * *

 

She’s a little nervous about the first time she sits down to dinner with Caroline, William, Lizzie, Bing and Jane. It’s not really a formal affair, just everyone who’s staying at Netherfield sitting down in the den to eat spaghetti and watch television together. The TV is on super low volume and hums in the background as the six of them eat. Eventually Lizzie kicks up a conversation.

“So your parents are getting into town tomorrow,” Lizzie says. “That’ll be fun.”

“Oh, lots,” Caroline says, rolling her eyes heavenward as she responds. Gigi swallows a bite of food and it catches on the way down. She feels a disagreement between the two of them brewing like a storm low on the horizon.

“You’re going to love our parents,” Bing says to Lizzie and Jane which as much genuine enthusiasm as he says everything. William is silent. This does not escape Lizzie’s notice.

“Darcy?” She elbows him in the chest as she speaks. “Something to share with the class?” she asks. He gives her a reticent glance.

“No,” he finally says.

“My father is a little overbearing,” Bing explains in a confidential tone, still smiling. “My mother is very intense.”

“Darcy thinks our parents are embarrassing,” Caroline elaborates, leaning back in her seat.

“Well, he can’t hate them any more than he hates _my_ parents,” Lizzie says. Everyone else chortles, except Jane, who quietly admonishes her sister.

“I don’t hate your parents,” William mutters to the room at large. Instinctively, Gigi leans her head on his shoulder. As soon as she does it, everyone shuts up. Gigi has a very acute feeling of unpleasant nostalgia.

“Caroline,” Gigi says, lifting her head up again. “Lydia needs you for a dress fitting before you leave.”

“Of course, of course,” Caroline says, clearing her throat. The conversation moves forward at a lumbering pace, punctuated with long gaps where the only sound is the drone of the television. Gigi hopes silently that it won’t always be this way between the six of them. 

* * *

 

Brunch with the Lees is interesting and that’s the most generous word Gigi can think of to describe it.

She’s not entirely sure how she ended up being invited in the first place, because this was supposed to be a brunch just for the Bennet/Lee contingency of the party. But somehow Lizzie talked William into coming along (not that it took much effort on her part to convince him to do anything), and after the Lees knew that William and Gigi were in town there was really no avoiding it.

It has never been hard for Gigi to see how Bing and Caroline turned out the ways they did, knowing their parents. Mr. Lee shares his son’s relentless optimism, even though Caroline takes after him more than her brother does. He’s career-oriented and annoyingly productive. Even though the Lees are ostensibly old money by now, Mr. Lee’s grandfather was a self-made man, and the philosophy of pulling oneself up by one’s bootstraps is something that Mr. Lee perpetuates with uncanny enthusiasm on a daily basis.

Before the Lees separated, Caroline had been master at mediating their arguments. Gigi had seen it firsthand more than once and heard countless stories about it. Now that they didn’t live together anymore, they got along better than ever, more business partners than husband and wife. With their mutual animosity gone, Gigi knows Caroline has become her parents’ favorite outlet for their passive-aggression.

Mrs. Lee is simultaneously disengaged and hyper-critical when it comes to her children, and Gigi has never particularly liked her. She looks like Cruella De Vil right now, in her oversized creamy peacoat, her silvery blonde hair piled up on the top of her head, her pale green eyes hawklike and looking for prey.

“Georgiana,” Mrs. Lee addresses her after they’ve been served their food. Mrs. Lee is one of maybe four people who _ever_ call her Georgiana, and that’s counting William when he’s mad at her and Lizzie when she’s impersonating their aunt. “Are you still studying art?”

“Graphic design,” Gigi corrects while nodding.

“Can you get a graduate degree in that?” Mrs. Lee wonders aloud.

“Yes,” Gigi says, her eyes flicking towards Caroline for support. Caroline, however, has been day drinking, and is already on her third glass of wine.

“Elizabeth,” Mrs. Lee continues. Gigi can basically feel Lizzie’s exasperation from where she’s sitting on the other side of William. “What is it you got your degree in?”

“Mass communications,” Lizzie replies, her voice taking on the slight inflection of a question.

“My,” Mrs. Lee says, leaning back in her chair. “You can get an advanced degree in just about _anything_ these days. It sounds like all you have to do is… show up.”

Caroline hands Lizzie the bottle of wine she’s been nursing, unprompted. Bing very graciously laughs the comment off.

As Mrs. Lee continues to pester Lizzie with questions about what it is she actually does, Gigi turns her attention to the other end of the table, where Jane’s mother has been seated as far away from Bing’s mother as physically possible. Lydia is sitting between her parents. She has been doing an admirable job of keeping them distracted. This all goes downhill very quickly when Mrs. Bennet starts talking loudly about how lovely the wedding is going to be. Gigi watches Mrs. Lee as Mrs. Bennet prattles on. For every word she says, Gigi imagines a fuse slowly burning down.

Lydia interrupts her mother several times, and eventually, feeling the pressure of the situation, Lizzie and Jane attempt to intervene too. Caroline rolls her eyes and looks out the window, down the sloping lawns of the country club, her vacant stare suggesting her thoughts are faraway. William fixes his gaze on his plate, his jaw set rigidly. Even Bing begins to get edgy.

“Yes, it will be absolutely wonderful,” Mrs. Lee eventually interrupts, her tone clipped. “And as the finances work out, it’ll only cost us a _fraction_ of what we’d would have had to pay for Robert’s education. An excellent trade.”

“Mom,” Bing complains, sounding uncharacteristically mortified. Jane blushes and looks at her lap. Mrs. Bennet mercifully says nothing.

“I’m serious. It’s a small price to pay for happiness.” Mrs. Lee holds up her wine glass in a half-hearted toasting gesture. “Even if I stand by what I said about you being a little young to get married, sweetheart. Twenty four is pushing it. Twenty five would be fine.”

Caroline slams her palm against the table, causing every to jump, except Mrs. Lee, who looks at her impassively.

“He is _twenty seven_ ,” Caroline snaps. Bing quietly asks her to let it slide, but Caroline tells him to shut up and then (in less kind terms) repeats the sentiment to her mother. Mostly everyone else is silent, but things escalate quickly, and brunch ends forty five minutes early.

* * *

 

For their Fourth of July party, Bing has somehow booked a private beach near Monterey. It’s a two hour drive, and they pile into their cars directly after brunch, which means that Mrs. Lee is not attending. She has instead holed herself up in her guest room at Netherfield.

Gigi is in Lizzie’s car along with William and Lydia. The four of them sit in silence, embarrassed but not exactly directly affected by the feud between Caroline and Mrs. Lee that had taken place at brunch. Lizzie turns on NPR, but William quickly grows irritated with the narrator of the political piece that’s airing and turns it off again. Everyone is silent for another five minutes.

“So am I the only one who didn’t know Bing’s real name is Robert?” Lydia asks out of the blue. Gigi looks at her for a second before giggling. Lizzie laughs. William cracks a smile and checks his phone. “Seriously, though.”

“I guess I knew,” Gigi says. “But I always forget. Robert is a family name. He’s the third. His father gets called Robert and his grandfather is Bob, so I guess they were out of nicknames?”

“It’s a childhood nickname,” William elaborates. “Caroline called him that when they were little and it stuck.”

“ _Robert_ ,” Lydia reiterates after a moment with a snort.

“It’s weird,” Lizzie says. “He’s marrying my sister and I literally didn’t even know his name.”

“Do you know William’s middle name?” Gigi asks, already smirking. Her brother’s head snaps up and he catches her eye in the rearview mirror, shaking his head sharply.

“Gigi,” William warns sternly. Lizzie glances at him, an amused smile crossing her features.

“Well now you have to tell us,” Lydia prods.

“It’s our mother’s maiden name,” Gigi says. Lizzie glances at her in the rearview, her brow creasing with concentration as if she might vaguely recall what their mother’s maiden name was, but can’t quite put it together.

“Georgiana,” William continues.

“Fitzwilliam,” Gigi says before William can stop her. He releases a long, annoyed sigh from the back of his throat as Lizzie and Lydia laugh over this.

“William _Fitzwilliam_ Darcy,” Lizzie teases. Lydia’s chuckle progresses to a full-on belly laugh when Lizzie says it out loud.

“Fitz was also named after my mother,” William says in a bid to redirect the Bennet sisters’ attentions. “The shortened form is a familiar name.”

“ _Fitzwilliam Williams_ ,” Lizzie concludes, doubling over against the steering wheel slightly. She’s laughing so hard that Gigi is concerned she’s going to go right off the road. Lydia is too busy cackling next to her to share this concern.

“So what about you,” Lydia asks Gigi once she and Lizzie catch their breath. “Do you have a ridiculous name?”

“ _Georgiana_ ,” Gigi replies, terse but candid. She’s never really liked her name. It’s a mouthful.

“That’s pretty,” Lizzie counters. Gigi just shakes her head. Lydia agrees with her sister.

“What’s your middle name?” Lydia asks.

“Catherine,” she says. Lizzie makes a face that Gigi catches only a glimpse of.  “And then also Fitzwilliam, as if it wasn’t enough of a mouthful already.”

“Mine’s Brittany,” Lydia supplies. “And Lizzie’s is Emily.”

“Elizabeth Emily Bennet,” William says, low and under his breath and really just for Lizzie. But Gigi and Lydia are like, a foot away, so there’s no actual privacy.

“William Fitzwilliam Darcy,” Lizzie replies, her tone entirely altered from the exuberant mockery of moments ago.

“This just got gross,” Lydia gripes.

“You didn’t have to come in this car,” Lizzie points out. “There was room for you in all the other cars.”

“Yeah, but this is the cool car,” Lydia says with a casual shrug.

“Oooooh,” Lizzie says loudly. “We’re the _cool_ car?”

“It was a super low bar,” Lydia hedges, putting her feet up against the back of Lizzie’s seat. “Don’t get too excited.” When Lydia speaks, she catches Gigi’s eye with a knowing smirk that she can’t help but feel is directly for her.

* * *

 

Despite the stormy arguments of that morning, the evening weather is perfect for the party. Even though the sun is down, the entire dusky beach radiates a soft warmth, as if the sand soaked up the sunshine over the long day. The wind off the ocean is salty and cool against Gigi’s skin. She stretches her legs and buries her toes deeper in the fine pale sand and flops onto her back.

“You’re going to get sand in your hair,” Caroline tells her, discarding her sunglasses as the sun slips underneath the distant ocean horizon entirely. The light and warmth comes now from the bonfire that Bing and Mr. Bennet have constructed a few hundred yards down the beach.

“I already have sand in my hair,” Gigi says, stretching her arms out in angel-wing motions. “I have sand everywhere. Sand and salt.”

“Exactly why I don’t swim in the ocean,” Caroline says, tightening her ponytail. “Your hair is going to be so dried out tomorrow.”

“We can have a spa day,” Gigi suggests. “I know a place in Fresno.” She doesn’t have to be looking at Caroline to know that her nose crinkles at this.

Caroline, however, does not have time to reply before they are interrupted.

“Hey,” Lydia says as she plops down next to Gigi. Her hair is still wet and stringy and her skin is damp enough that the sand clings to it and to the fabric of her emerald green swimsuit. Gigi sits up. “Look what I found,” Lydia continues, dropping a seashell into Gigi’s open palm.

“Oooh, pretty,” Gigi responds, turning the shell over in her hands. It’s hard to see it very well in the flickering yellowish light from the fire, but she holds it out to Caroline, who promptly uses her cellphone to illuminate it. It’s incandescent and reminds Gigi of opals.

“It’s abalone,” Lydia says. Gigi is about to mention that she’s had abalone at restaurants in San Francisco, but Lydia continues. “The otters dive for them and crack them open with rocks.” Lydia catches the impressed look that Gigi is giving her and smiles as she explains. “My family used to come to the Monterey Bay Aquarium like every summer for vacation. Have you ever been?”

“No,” Gigi says. Her family’s summer vacations had always been to Cannes or Saint Martin, not Monterey. She thinks better than to mention this.

“You should sometime.”

 “I’d like to.”

“We should go over there,” Lydia says, gesturing towards the bonfire, where everyone is milling around and drinking beer that is probably long warm by this point in the evening.

“Pass,” Caroline mumbles. “If I have to spend the rest of the party with them, I’m taking a breather first.”

“And we have to go back to Netherfield after the party is over, too,” Gigi says, her voice taking on a whinging quality. She doesn’t mean to, but after everything, the idea of staying in the house with the Lees is really unappealing. “It’s so crowded there right now.”

“I hate whoever it was that had the idea to put that many guest rooms in that house,” Caroline agrees.

“Hey,” Lydia says, taking her abalone shell back from Gigi. “You could stay with me for a while.”

“Uh,” Gigi says, her ability to recall English words entirely abandoning her for a second. “Really?”

“Sure,” Lydia says. “There’s plenty of room with Lizzie and Jane staying at Bing’s so often.”

“That’s so nice of you to offer,” Gigi says, glancing back at Caroline. She doesn’t know why she’s panicking, because Caroline just looks somewhere between bored and slightly envious.

“We can have a sleepover. Do makeovers, paint our toenails. That kind of thing.”

“Sure,” Gigi says. Her mouth is dry and she feels like she maybe got sand in there somehow but can’t spit it out right now because Lydia’s bright bright blue eyes are fixed on her face. “Thanks.”

“Cool,” Lydia says, beaming. “It’ll be fun.” She stands up and brushes the sand off her bare thighs. “Coming?” She jerks her head towards the bonfire.

Gigi smiles as she shakes her head. “I’m going to stay here with Caroline for a bit. But I’ll catch up in a second?”

Lydia looks down at her for a second before responding. Her tone is crisper and more precise than it was before when she replies. “Cool,” she says again before sauntering off towards the bonfire. Gigi sees her fling the abalone shell skipping-stone style down the beach as she goes. 

* * *

 

The next evening, Gigi arrives at the Bennet home, houndstooth backpack of clothes and toiletries clutched close to her chest. Lydia has arranged to have her stay at the Bennets’ for three nights, until the Lees vacate Netherfield. Lizzie and Jane have both decided to stay at Bing’s for the time, so Gigi staying with Lydia is symmetrical in a way. It completes the shuffle of Darcys and Bennets between Netherfield and the little house on Longbourn Court.

Because Mr. and Mrs. Bennet are out for dinner, they are not around to pitch a fit when Lydia ransacks the linen cupboards for extra blankets and drags a futon mattress out from the den closet. She sets up Gigi’s make-shift bed right next to the sofa and puts on a movie from the 90’s that Gigi’s never seen before and chats idly with her as she paints her toenails. Gigi sits on the sofa and mostly listens. Lydia is talking about all of her exes and how they were awful, even if they were relatively benign.

She’s just finishing up a story about an ex of hers who never quite figured out what to do with his hands when she finishes painting her toenails. She screws the cap back onto the bottle and offers it to Gigi.

“Oh, I’m not very good at painting my own nails,” she says. Lydia shrugs.

“I can do it for you if you want,” she says.

“Alright,” Gigi obliges without really thinking. Lydia pulls herself up onto the sofa from off the floor and pats her lap. She kicks her feet up and rests her head on the armrest. As she paints Gigi’s toenails, Lydia rests her free hand on her calves. Her hands are dry and warm against Gigi’s skin.

“I knew this one guy,” Lydia continues, “who was really bad with his teeth. I don’t just mean he was a tooth-knocker, even though he _was_. He’d also nip me sometimes. And like, lip nipping, fine. That can be hot. He bit my nose once. Weirdest mid make out move ever.” She laughs and Gigi does too. “Anyway, one time he bit my nipple. Like, hard. There was blood.” Gigi cringes reflexively. “I _know_ , right?” Lydia says, glancing up at her with a smirk on her face.

“What did you do?” Gigi asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yelled a lot, never talked to him again. Told everyone I know he’s a nipple biter.”

“Really? Everyone?”

“The people needed to know,” Lydia insists, switching to Gigi’s other foot. “Most of my guyfriends just asked me what the big deal was, though.”

“Seriously?”

“ _Yes_.” She stops painting Gigi’s toenails for a second to make an exasperated hand gesture. “You’d think with how sensitive they are about getting kicked in the balls they’d understand the concept of being respectful towards _sensitive_ areas.” She shakes her head. “But, you know. Dudes.”

Gigi takes a long pause before she asks her next question. “Have you ever kissed a girl?” she asks, purposefully fixing her gaze on the television so she can’t see Lydia’s physical response to the question. Lydia hums for a second.

“Yes,” she says. “Once. Summer school after my junior year of high school, there was this girl. Samantha Russell. She sat in front of me. Her hair was like five shades of blonde all mixed together. We kissed at a party once before the summer session ended.”

“On a dare?” Gigi asks, looking towards her.

“Please,” Lydia scoffs. Her attention is very focused on Gigi’s toenails, her brow creased a little. “I do things because I want to do them.” She smiles as she speaks. “If you asked Lizzie though she’d probably tell you I was just going through a phase. Or starved for attention.”

“Oh,” Gigi says.

“Have you?” Lydia asks at the same time. After a slight pause, she adds: “Kissed a girl?”

“No,” Gigi says slowly, carefully, because she’s kissed exactly one person in her entire life.

Lydia purses her lips and nods. “All done,” she announces, putting the lid back on the nail polish. As she does it, she jostles Gigi’s feet off her lap by crossing her legs. Gigi pulls her knees up to her chin, watching her toenails as the polish dries. They sit on their opposite ends of the sofa in silence, watching the movie as it plays on low volume in front of them. 

* * *

 

The next afternoon, Maria Lu calls to ask if Gigi wants to grab dinner so they can discuss Doctor Who, which Gigi has been working her way though. She tries to say that she’s already hanging out with Lydia, but Lydia interrupts.

“We should all go out,” Lydia says. “She should come over after. Oooh,” she continues with an unrestrained verve Gigi has only ever seen through her computer screen. “Mary can meet us in Fresno for dinner and then we can all stay here tonight. Sleepover party.”

Gigi relays all this information to Maria, who agrees on the condition that Lydia let her use the Bennets’ bluray player to watch the special features of the last Harry Potter movie, because apparently that is something Lydia has been promising to do for a while now. Lydia agrees and calls Mary, who seems neutrally enthusiastic about the entire plan. But, to be fair, Gigi has always had a hard time gauging Mary’s enthusiasm for things.

The plan comes together quickly, and after they all meet in Fresno for Italian food and track down the very last Blockbuster in the Central Valley to rent the Harry Potter blurays, they are back in the Bennet family den, settled in for the evening.

After ten minutes of Harry Potter, though, Lydia gets bored and looks up a drinking game for it on the internet.

Things go downhill from there.

* * *

 

They end up upstairs in Lydia’s bedroom after only about forty five minutes of special features.

Because Mary does not drink, she has ended up the moderator for a drinking game of Lydia’s own invention, which is partly truth or dare but mostly just an excuse to get really drunk. The rules of the game are that one person asks a question, and everyone has to answer, and if they lie and get called out on it they have to take a drink.

“Uh, weirdest thing to ever happen to you at a concert,” Mary suggests for round… thirteen, fourteen, something up there. They ran out of good questions a long time ago but the bottle of Vodka Lydia had procured from the kitchen isn’t empty yet, so they soldier on.

“One time I ended up with three pairs of reading glasses in my coat pocket,” Lydia says. “I think I was maybe stealing them from people but I don’t remember for suresies.”

“Somebody grabbed my butt once,” Gigi offers, gesturing with her shot glass haphazardly. “Just grabbed my butt and walked away. I never even saw them. To this day, I have no idea who grabbed my butt. It could have been anyone. It could have been James Franco.” She’s not sure why this is where her mind goes when she’s drunk, but she doesn’t ruminate on it overmuch.

Maria doesn’t have a concert story because she’s never been to a concert. “There aren’t a lot of concerts around here,” she complains when Mary and Lydia give her crap for this.

“There’s this band I like playing in Sacramento in a few weeks,” Gigi says. “We should go.”

“I can’t,” Lydia says as Mary and Maria start to agree.

“Why not?” Mary asks.

“I’m not allowed to do overnight out of town trips,” Lydia says, pouring herself another drink. “Definitely not to go to a concert.”

“Why?” Mary presses.

“I’m just not allowed, Mary. My dad wouldn’t let me.”

“Did your parents ground you because of… what happened?” Mary asks, her voice dropping. “That would be _so_ messed up of them.”

“I’m not grounded,” Lydia sighs. “I’m just not allowed.”

“Why not? You’re a grown up, you can take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, but, I…” Lydia downs her entire wine glass of Vodka without losing the game. “I can take care of myself now, but I couldn’t for a while, and it scared them. That’s all.”

Everyone is very quiet for a few seconds.

“We should go anyway,” Maria suggests. “I’ve also never sneaked out before and that’s on my bucket list.”

“Bucket list,” Gigi echoes in a drunkenly half-hearted endorsement of this plan, because she really wants to go to that concert with these girls. Lydia looks between them for a second.

“That might be fun,” she concludes. Then she effectively ends this discussion by reminding them “It’s Maria’s turn to ask a question.”

Maria thinks for a second. “Okay,” she says. “Who’s the last person you kissed?”

“Eddie,” Mary responds immediately.

“It’s boring if you have a boyfriend,” Lydia says, rolling her eyes. “The last person I kissed…” she continues, pausing as if she has to give it real thought. “Adam Pratt,” she finally concludes.

“Ugh,” Maria says, screwing her face up. “That guy’s a buttface.”

“He’s kind of shallow douchebag but he’s really alright,” Lydia protests.

“No I mean,” Maria says in a very rushed tone. “I mean he literally looks like he has a butt for a face.” Gigi laughs at this, and even Mary giggles.

“New rule,” Lydia says. “Every time someone says butt they have to take a drink.” Everyone laughs about this for a second before Lydia continues prompting the game on. “Gigi? Your turn.”

As Lydia’s gaze lands on her, Gigi feels all the laughter drain from her face instantaneously. She’d forgotten, for just a second, that she’d have to answer the question too. She feels a lie form on the tip of her tongue, but it takes a second too long, gets caught in her throat. She can’t bear to look at Lydia. Her eyes drop.

The pause that follows has the uncomfortableness of everybody knowing a secret nobody wants to mention. Everyone in this room watched Lizzie’s videos. All three of them know why she can’t answer the question, implicitly.

It’s Lydia who speaks first. “Are you freaking _serious_?”

Even if Gigi could think of something to say, she’s paralyzed, frozen from her lips to her fingers to her toes. Mary looks at her nails awkwardly. Maria’s mouth hangs open slightly in shock.

“Gigi,” Lydia says. “Can I talk to you in private for a second?”

Mutely, Gigi stands up and lets Lydia lead her out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the tiny cramped bathroom the three sisters share. The small privacy window by the shower is open, and it lets in a cool nighttime draft, but the air in the bathroom is still thick and heady with the smell of perfume. The room’s so small that Gigi is backed up all the way against the counter and the edge of it digs into her back. Lydia stands less than a foot away from her, directly in her only escape route.

“Really though?” Lydia asks, sounding more angry than surprised. Gigi doesn’t know why Lydia would be angry at her for this, and it terrifies her, just a little bit in the very pit of her stomach. It makes her want to run away.

“Yeah,” Gigi sighs, tasting the alcohol on her own breath.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Gigi says, offense prickling at her.

“Nothing,” Lydia scoffs in reply as she saunters forward a step. “Sure, nothing. It’s been forever. You should have…” The confrontational tension has drained out of her shoulders, but Gigi is gripping the countertop so hard her knuckles hurt.

“I should have…?”

“You should just go out with someone,” Lydia says, and a huge breath of air Gigi didn’t know she was holding in rushes out of her. “I’ll set you up with someone cute and boring. Someone, whoever. It’ll be easy, you’ll see.”

Gigi fully intends to decline, but for some reason the words don’t come out of her mouth. The reason, she tells herself, is that Lydia is so smart and so savvy, it’s that Lydia knows what she’s doing and that Lydia could not possibly be wrong about this. So, instead of saying no, her lips part and she says “Alright.”

“Great,” Lydia says, her eyes wide with excitement. “I’ll find someone and I’ll set it up for tomorrow night. That way you’ll have an alibi for not being at Netherfield.” Gigi can’t stop her eyebrows from shooting up in shock and worry. “ _If_ you need one,” Lydia says, holding her hands up in surrender as she backs out of the bathroom. “You can always come back here.”

Gigi begins to follow her out of the bathroom. “Oh, wait,” she says, pausing in the doorway as she remembers how they left Mary and Maria before. “What do we say?” she asks, pointing towards Lydia’s bedroom door. Lydia looks at her for a moment before respond with a tiny shake of her head and a reassuring smile.

“Don’t say anything. Just smile,” she says, like it’s the most obvious solution in the world. 

* * *

 

Lydia definitely delivers: the guy she sets Gigi up with is pretty cute and also very boring.

She was wrong about it being easy, though, because Gigi has no idea what to say to him and he just doesn’t have anything interesting to say. Dinner is forty minutes of stilted small talk on Gigi’s part and oblivious responses from him. She ends up paying for it. They go for a walk in a nearby park afterwards and she kisses him.

He maybe not be a great conversationalist, but he is good at this. Still, something doesn’t feel right about it and Gigi has to push him off of her even though she initiated the kiss. He’s confused and obstinate and a little cagey, and he looks at her like she’s a freak, and that’s what really cuts.

She pays for his cab fare home.

For a long time after that she just sits in her car, gripping her steering wheel, trying to decide where to go.

She does not go back to Lydia’s. 

* * *

 

When she gets back to Netherfield, William is still up, working late.

She bursts into tears the second he asks her what’s wrong. By the way his fingers clench her a little too tightly when he hugs her, the way his jaw is set motionlessly still when he tucks her head under his chin, she can tell she’s frightened him. She tries to pull herself together but it takes her a few minutes.

“What happened?” he asks as she wipes her nose on her sleeve. He must be really worried, because he doesn’t even cringe as she does it.

“Nothing, really,” she insists.

“Gigi,” he says, under his breath. And she doesn’t want him to worry, she really doesn’t, but she can see that that ship has sailed already.

“I, uhm,” she snuffles, trying to think of the right way to word it. She goes for the simple truth. “I had a date, and it just didn’t work out.”

His eyes narrow. “I thought you were at Lizzie’s house,” he says.

“I was going to go back there, after dinner,” she says. Also true.

“It’s almost one,” William continues.

“Yeah,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “I was… I was just thinking.”

He stares at her, still worried, so worried. But he nods. “And you’re...?”

“I’m fine,” she promises. She hugs him again, and he relaxes, just the tiniest bit. But not enough. “Do we have any ice cream?” she asks.

He nods, and they go into the kitchen and eat ice cream and she tells him all about the most boring dinner conversation she’s ever had in her life. It’s good to be so open with him, and it’s even better to see him smiling and joking and happy, after the year they’ve had. 

* * *

 

The week passes uneventfully. There’s planning for summer parties, and planning for the concert escape. Luckily for Gigi, there are no further blind dates.

On Sundays she and Lizzie go to the country club to play tennis together. Lizzie has insisted for some time that Gigi not hold back when they play together, and after getting off to a rough start, she’s really improving. She can hold her own most of the time now, and Gigi is grateful to have a partner who’s better than William or Fitz.

“I still think you’re going easy on me,” Lizzie says as they turn it in for the day. Gigi laughs.

“Maybe a _tiny bit_ ,” she admits. “But you’re really good at it, you know? And I’m sure Coach Annesley could just write you a love letter for not letting me get rusty.”

“In lieu of love letters she could send cookies,” Lizzie suggests with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“Hungry?” Gigi asks. Lizzie nods fervently. “Let’s get lunch.”

“Good plan,” Lizzie agrees. They agree on one of Lizzie’s favorite cafes, nearby the country club. They decide to walk.

“By the way,” Lizzie continues after about a block. “Your brother mentioned that Lydia set you up on a date the other day?”

“Yeah,” Gigi says, a little irked that William didn’t assume confidentiality on this. She makes a mental note of explicitly telling him not to tell Lizzie certain things, in the future.

“How’d that go?” Lizzie asks as if she doesn’t know already. Gigi purses her lips.

“It didn’t, really,” she says.

“Oh,” Lizzie says, turning her attention to something else momentarily. “Don’t let her boss you around, alright?”

“What?” Gigi asks.

“Lydia likes people she can push around,” Lizzie says. “She’s really good at it and she likes doing it.”

Gigi spends a second too long trying to think of a polite way to disagree with her.

“Anyway,” Lizzie says. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, just because…”

“It’s fine, Lizzie,” Gigi says, relaxing at her words, because somehow when Lizzie says them they don’t just sound like an echo of William’s sentiments. They sound fully her own, and even though Gigi has always had people fretting over her getting hurt, she’s also always appreciated it, in a way.

“Okay,” Lizzie says. “Just don’t be afraid to say no to her. She’ll bounce back fast.”

She just can’t think of a way to tell Lizzie she’s wrong. 

* * *

 

The date of the concert rolls around fast and Gigi spends the entire morning with butterflies in her stomach. It’s really silly, because she’s an adult who is ostensibly allowed to do whatever she wants, but the lying and sneaking makes it exciting.

They have all their excuses set up and their plans made, so there’s not really a lot to do besides choose outfits and wait around for Mary and Maria. Gigi is sitting with her stocking feet up on Lydia’s bed while she tries on different tops.

“I like that one,” Gigi says, pointing to a blouse that Lydia has discarded without considering.

“Ugh, no, that looks awful on me.” She goes back to rustling through her closet. “Jane got it for me from work, but I’ve never actually worn it. You should try it on. It’s a good color for you.”

Gigi does adore the minty green color, so she gets up and picks it up off the floor, holding it out in front of her. She shucks off her blazer and puts the top on over her camisole, buttoning it all the way up to the neck.

When Lydia comes back out, she’s wear a black top with bright splashes of color printed all over it. Gigi recognizes it from Lizzie’s videos. She’s always liked it.

Lydia gives her an appraising look, drawing her hand to her mouth thoughtfully.

“You look good,” she says. Gigi looks at herself in Lydia’s floor-length mirror. It is a nice blouse. “It really brings out your eyes,” she says, walking up to her and unbuttoning the top button on the shirt, simple as that.

“Mhmm,” Gigi says, sitting down on her bed. Lydia looks at herself in the mirror and decides she doesn’t like the top she’s wearing, disappearing into the closet again.

“By the way,” Lydia says from her closet. “Josh texted me to tell me he had a really good time with you the other night and he wants to know if he can have your number.”

“Um,” Gigi responds, because what else is there to say to that, really?

Lydia pokes her head out of the closet, raising her eyebrows. “You sound surprised.”

“I haven’t been on a lot of dates, but…” She unbuttons the shirt and puts her own cardigan back on. “That wasn’t a good one.”

“You should go out with him again,” Lydia says, returning to her top-hunting efforts.

“I don’t think so,” Gigi says.

“Why not?” Lydia presses.

“I’m just… I’m not like you, okay, Lydia?”

Lydia’s voice is tense and edgy when her reply comes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, we’re just trying to get back to normal, right?”

Lydia emerges from the closet, clad in a bright blue top that hangs off one of her shoulders. She stares at Gigi and doesn’t say anything. Her hands are planted on her hips, her jaw set at a defiant angle. There’s a spark of anger burning behind her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything.

“And if for you normal means going out with guys, then that’s you, but it’s just not me.”

“God,” Lydia scoffs, looking at herself in the mirror. “You’re just like Lizzie, aren’t you?”

“I… what?” Gigi asks as she folds the mint green blouse.

“Lizzie thinks I don’t know what I’m doing. She hates it. She doesn’t say anything but I know she does. She thinks I’m making mistakes. She thinks I’m stupid.”

“She doesn’t—”

“ _I know her better than you do_ ,” Lydia snaps, and Gigi swallows her response.

“I don’t think that about you,” she tries again. Lydia frowns.

“What do you think then?”

“I think… I wish I could be like you. I wish I could trust people like that.”

“It’s not a trust thing,” Lydia says. She laughs as she says it, but it’s fairly humorless. “It’s a sex thing.”

“Sex… isn’t a trust thing?” Gigi asks.

“Not that kind of trust,” Lydia says. She sits down on the floor next to where Gigi is sitting on her bed, so that her arm is right next to Gigi’s leg. “These guys I’ve been messing around with,” Lydia says, her face rested on her hand. She’s looking at the wall. “Guys like Josh? They’re shallow and they’re dumb. They’re not… they don’t surprise me. I get them wrapped around my little finger and it’s easy.”

Gigi remembers what Lizzie said on Sunday. She purses her lips.

“I hate them,” Lydia says after a second, without any real conviction. Just weariness.

“Why don’t you go out with someone you do like?” Gigi asks, linking her fingers together in front of her knees.

“No,” Lydia says, shaking her head.

“Why not?” Gigi asks.

“Because, going out with people I like? Never ends well. Not for me. No, that’s playing for stakes.”

“You can’t just…” Gigi sighs, slipping down onto the floor so she’s on level with Lydia. “You can’t just decide to never like anyone ever again.”

“Why not?” Lydia asks.

“Because that’s not how feelings work,” Gigi says, and then almost immediately recants, because she doesn’t want to make Lydia into something she’s not. “I mean, if you like someone, you could ignore it… but you can’t just decide to stop liking them. Right?”

“Right,” Lydia says, looking off into space. “But if you ignore it, you can’t get hurt.”

“There are a lot of different kinds of hurt,” Gigi points out. Lydia nods.

“And some are worse than others.”

“But maybe it wouldn’t hurt at all, if you tried. Maybe it would be good.”

“Maybe it’d be good if you went out with Josh again,” Lydia says.

Gigi opens her mouth to respond, but she’s so surprised she doesn’t have anything to say. “You’re right,” she finally manages. “But I don’t want to do that.” Then, after a moment, she adds a very quiet “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Lydia says, understanding her perfectly. She braces her weight on the bed and stands up, stretching out. “But hey,” she adds, smoothing out her top as she looks at herself in the mirror. She turns around to look at Gigi while she speaks, a small smile lingering on her face. “Let’s not talk about boys tonight, okay?”

Gigi smiles too. “I think we can manage that.” 

* * *

 

By the time they’re getting ready to drive home from Sacramento, Gigi counts the day among one of the best days of her life. She makes this call a little prematurely.

Being as Mary is their permanently designated driver, they are piled into her car. Lydia is in the front seat, sorting through her cousin’s CD collection. Gigi and Maria are in back, and are arguably significantly drunker than Lydia is. One of the many things Gigi has learned about herself in the last month is that she’s not great at holding her drink. Maria is half-asleep on Gigi’s shoulder.

It’s late, just past midnight, and Gigi knows it’s nearly three hours back to Fresno. She feels herself drifting off to sleep too, even though she knows she should stay away to chat with Mary and help her stay awake too, but it’s been a long good day already. She nods off.

When she wakes up, it’s because Lydia’s shaking her shoulder. She’s disoriented for a second, but shakes it off quickly.

“What’s going on?” she asks, rubbing her eyes and shrugging Maria off her shoulder.

“Mary’s car broke down,” Lydia says, rolling her eyes. Gigi groans, still trying to shake Maria awake as she scoots out of the car. She stands up to stretch.

“Where are we?” she asks.

“Modesto,” Lydia responds. Mary, who has been poking around under the hood of her car, moans loudly.

“What’s wrong with it?” Gigi asks.

“I don’t _know,_ ” Mary says. “I don’t know _anything_ about cars.”

Maria, who has finally woken up, vacates the car quickly and vomits on the side of the road. This causes Lydia to go into crisis mode, which is probably a good thing, because crisis mode Lydia gets shit done. She finds a water bottle for Maria, locks up Mary’s car, and finds the nearest McDonalds on her cell phone. Not even ten minutes later they’re sitting in the restaurant with food on the table in front of them, but even though Gigi’s stomach is empty and aching, she has no appetite.

“What do we do now?” she asks while Maria picks at her meal.

“I don’t know,” Lydia says, turning her cup of coffee between her hands. “Get a motel room, call a towing company?”

“Won’t you get in trouble if we’re not back in time?” Maria asks. Lydia shrugs.

“I could come up with a story if I had to. Can Eddie pick us up?”

“He’s on vacation with his parents,” Mary responds. “What about Jane? Or Lizzie?”

“They’d tell my parents,” Lydia says.

Gigi is quiet for a second, knowing that her friends won’t like what she’s about to suggest. “We could call my brother,” she offers.

“Nooo,” Maria says.

“No, no, no,” Mary adds.

Lydia gives her head the tiniest of shakes.

“Hear me out,” Gigi says. “William will come get us, and he can pay for the tow truck. He won’t tell anyone. That way nobody gets in trouble.”

“He won’t tell Lizzie?” Mary asks.

“Not if I ask him not to,” Gigi says. “He’s really good at keeping secrets.” Lydia shrugs in acquiescence.

“Yeah, but,” Maria says. “He’s kind of scary.”

“He’s not scary,” Gigi scoffs.

“He’s pretty scary,” Lydia says, pursing her lips. Gigi rolls her eyes. “He does seem like the best choice, though.” And since Lydia is the de facto leader of this group, Lydia makes the final decision. “Scary Darcy it is,” she says. “Call him.” 

* * *

 

Even though they’re an hour away from Fresno, William makes it in fifty minutes. Gigi doesn’t get a chance to tell him off for speeding before he launches off into a speech about her irresponsibility, which shouldn’t surprise her, really. He eyes Maria warily. Gigi knows their clothes all reek of alcohol and marijuana, and even though Maria has sobered up by now, she’s still a little out of sorts.

“Have you been drinking?” he asks Maria. Maria folds in about two seconds. Maybe even less.

“William,” Gigi complains. “Leave her alone.”

“It’s not her I’m upset with, Georgiana,” he says in a clipped tone, ushering them towards his car. Gigi takes shotgun, sinking down in her seat as soon as she sits down, arms crossed over her chest. Lydia, Mary, and Maria pile into the back of the car, pressed together cozily shoulder-to-shoulder. Gigi wishes she should be in the back seat with them, instead of alone up here.

Nobody talks on the way home. William drives them all the way to Mary’s house, which is twenty minutes south of Fresno and where they were supposed to have been spending the night, since her parents are gone for the weekend. Everyone gets out of the car, but William calls her back.

“You’re coming with me,” he says. Gigi doesn’t have the energy to argue, even though she just wants to go to sleep. She hugs everyone goodbye before getting back into the car with her brother.

The drive back to Netherfield is thirty minutes or so, and they spend it in perfect silence. When William pulls into the driveway and kills the engine of his car, he leans back in his seat and sighs a deep sigh.

“What were you thinking?” he finally asks.

“I’m not going to apologize,” Gigi says resolutely. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Maria Lu is twenty _,_ Georgiana. You can’t buy alcohol for minors. It’s illegal,” he says, his tone dangerously low. Gigi gulps. “And Mary is eighteen. To have her chauffeuring the three of you around after you’d been drinking… you’re lucky you didn’t get pulled over.”

“Okay, fine,” Gigi spits. “I’m sorry. Alright?”

“It’s not alright,” William says. “This isn’t like you. You don’t break rules.”

“I messed up,” Gigi tries again. “Is that what you want me to say? I made a mistake?”

“No. It’s not about that. I’m worried about you. You’re not behaving like yourself,” he continues.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Gigi says, her volume rising.

“That girl isn’t good for you,” William snaps. Gigi leans back, pressing herself against the car door, her eyes wide. She doesn’t quite believe what she’s hearing, but then again, it’s exactly something William would say. She should have expected it, really.

“That _girl_?” She spits the words back in his face. “You mean Lydia? You mean your girlfriend’s sister? _That_ girl?”

“I,” William begins, stumbling on his words. And Gigi knows she isn’t be fair to him, knows he didn’t mean it the way it sounded, know she should give him the benefit of the doubt. But she’s _angry_.

“You know what, William? If you think I’m not acting like myself right now, maybe you don’t know me that well!” She’s yelling now, her voice deafeningly loud to her own ears, but something has come out of her and she can’t put it back in. “And if you think _that girl_ is a bad influence, then you must think I’m awful too, because we’re _exactly the same_.” She opens her car door, gets out, and slams it behind her. She makes it halfway up the driveway before her temper tantrum seizes her fully. She stands there for a moment, yells without saying any words, tries not to cry.

William gets out of the car behind her.

“Gigi,” he says, coming up beside her. He puts his hand on her shoulder. She bats it away.

And she knows it’s not fair of her (the tiny voice in the back of her head tells her it’s downright nasty of her) but she doesn’t talk to him. She doesn’t talk to him as they walk back to the house. She doesn’t talk to him when she wakes up at four in the afternoon the next day. She doesn’t talk to him when he tries to apologize to her after dinner the day after that.

And she knows it’s really just about the cruelest thing she can do to him. But she does it anyway. 

* * *

 

After that, spending time at Netherfield gets more or less unbearable. Because William is William, he doesn’t break his promise to her to not tell Lizzie about Lydia’s concert excursion, but Lizzie can tell there’s something going on between the two of them. Even Bing can tell there’s something going on.

Everyone tries to mediate, which Gigi can’t stand.

And when they’re not trying to mediate, they’re just being… coupley. It’s never bothered her before. She thought it was really sweet, before. Now it gets under her skin like nothing else.

The four of them are in the living room watching British rom coms one evening when Gigi decides she can’t take it anymore. She texts Lydia.

 _Trapped in small mansion with two over affectionate couples. Rescue me_ , she types out.

Lydia texts back almost immediately: _small??!?_

 _No mansion in the world would be big enough_ , Gigi texts back, cracking a smile despite how wound up she is.

 _ok princess. meet u @ crtr’s in 10 xoxo_ , Lydia replies.

Gigi slips out the back while everyone else is distracted by Hugh Grant. It’s not hard. And, as she constantly reminds herself, she is an adult who is ostensibly allowed to do whatever she wants.

“I was wondering when you were going to get sick of living in Honeymoon Castle,” Lydia tells her when she shows up at Carter’s.

“Normally it’s not so bad,” Gigi sighs.

“I _seriously_ doubt that. I’ve seen how Bing and Jane get. And Lizzie and Darcy always going off into corners to whisper to each other’s got to get annoying.”

“I mean…” Gigi says, tapping her fingers against the table. “For the most part it honestly doesn’t bother me. Especially with my brother. There aren’t a lot of people he’s that comfortable with and it’s good to see him relax.” Lydia nods as Gigi speaks. “And Bing and Jane, they’re just cute.”

“Yeah, cute enough to give you a toothache,” Lydia says. Gigi can’t disagree. “Anyway, you made it way longer than I would have.”

“And I’m not at the end of my rope _yet_ ,” Gigi says, smiling. “I just needed to get away for the evening.”

“I get that. I’m actually super glad you texted me,” Lydia says. “My mom’s having a wedding-related panic attack. Luckily my dad talked her down long enough for me to get out of the house.”

“What’s she worrying about?” Gigi asks. Jane, Lizzie, and Lydia have been so on top of wedding planning that Gigi’s not even sure what Mrs. Bennet has to be responsible for.

“Cake stuff?” Lydia says, scrunching her nose up. “I don’t even know. Jane and Bing want vanilla bean but she thinks red velvet would be classier.”

“Well, maybe for the rehearsal dinner,” Gigi suggests.

“Yeah,” Lydia sighs. “I’m sure we can fit it in _somewhere_. I just wish Jane would stop giving in just to calm her down. It’s Jane’s wedding, _not_ Mom’s.”

“It’s a good thing Jane and Bing agree on most things,” Gigi says, laughing. “Otherwise they’d get into arguments where they were just saying ‘no, no, you’re right’ all the time.”

“It’s a miracle that hasn’t started already.” Lydia raises her eyebrows as she takes a sip of her drink. “And on the other side of the spectrum of weird relationships, Lizzie and Darcy are arguing about _everything_ , even when they agree. He’s so not allowed to tag along on wedding business anymore.”

“Mmm,” Gigi says, staring off towards the bar.

“Hey, you alright?” Lydia asks. Gigi supposes nobody’s told her that she’s fighting with William. She’s alright with that.

“I’m great,” Gigi says, offering her a small smile.

“Okay.” Lydia’s eyes flick up towards the door. “Are you good on your own for a little bit? I’m meeting someone here.”

Gigi wants to point out that Lydia is supposed to be meeting _her_ here, but she doesn’t.

“It’ll just be a sec,” Lydia says. Gigi shrugs, and Lydia slinks off, leaving her alone at the table. 

* * *

 

Lydia’s gone for more than a second. She’s gone for more than several minutes, off in the back corners of the bar with whoever she was meeting. Gigi can’t see her from where she’s sitting, but sometimes she catches a peel of her laughter over the ambient noise of the bar.

She gets more uncomfortable with every minute that passes without Lydia’s return. She tells herself this is because she now appears to be alone at the bar, and she can feel the single men nearby staring her down. She wraps her hands around her glass tightly when one of them asks if he can buy her a drink and politely declines.

Lydia still doesn’t come back.

Eventually, the group of young men turn their attentions elsewhere and Gigi has to admit that she’s really just irritated that Lydia’s off with someone else. She picks up her purse and coat and leaves the bar without much further rumination on the topic.

She’s only about halfway to her car when Lydia catches up with her.

“Hey!” she calls after her. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” Gigi says, stopping in her tracks to turn around and face Lydia. She clutches her coat awkwardly in front of her chest.

“Were you going to say goodbye?” Lydia asks, hand on her hip.

“You were kind of busy,” Gigi says.

“So you just ditched me?”

“You ditched me first! We were supposed to be hanging out.” She shakes her coat out and folds it over her arm just to give herself something to do with her hands.

“We were hanging out,” Lydia says.

“No, we weren’t. You were hanging out with your… other friend, and I was alone and getting hit on by weird people,” Gigi says, turning around and walking towards her car again. Lydia follows her. “I was really uncomfortable, Lydia, and you were off…”

Lydia scoffs. “I thought you were cooler than this.”

Gigi stops walking again, feeling as if she’s been slapped in the face. She blinks back tears. “Cooler than what?”

“Than this!” She gestures towards Gigi’s person in general. “People are always saying, oh, Lydia, we’re here for you, but then as soon as it’s even a little bit inconvenient for them they’re off doing their own thing. They’re ditching me or moving away with their boyfriends or going to the museum when we had plans,” she says, rolling her eyes as she speaks. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she’s hunched up defensively. She looks so small, a tall thin figure clad in white against the dark backdrop of the walls of the bar building.

“You’re the one that was ignoring our plans, Lydia,” Gigi says.

“I wasn’t even gone for ten minutes!”

“Yeah, but, you were off—” Gigi doesn’t have a good end to that sentence, so she doesn’t bother finishing it.

“You are _just_ like Lizzie,” Lydia says, very quiet now. The first time she’d leveled this accusation at her there had been a lot of anger in her voice. Now it’s more of a subdued realization. “I should have…” she trails off.

“What?” Gigi asks. Lydia gathers up her thoughts for a second, quickly shaking her head back and forth.

“I shouldn’t have ever bothered with you,” Lydia says. “I know that you’re only hanging out with me because Lizzie asked you to, but… don’t bother any more, alright? Have a nice night.” She spins around on her heel and stalks off back towards the bar. Gigi’s so floored that she just stands there watching her go for a second, and then she takes off after her.

“Lydia,” she calls out. Lydia doesn’t stop. “Lydia! Wait!” She catches her arm as she reaches her.

“I don’t want to hear it, Gigi,” she says.

“But it’s not… I wasn’t just…” She wishes she were better with words, wishes she could just talk or charm her way out of this situation like Lizzie or Caroline undoubtedly could.

“Will you please just leave me alone for two minutes?” Lydia snaps, pulling her arm away from her. “I don’t want to talk to you right now. Just… go home.”

“But…” Gigi starts. Lydia just shakes her head, her jaw still set and angry. And she might not be very good at reading social cues, might not be very good with the subtleties, but she can tell this is a battle she won’t make any headway in.

She really, really doesn’t want to walk away. She doesn’t want to go home and leave Lydia alone at the bar. But she also doesn’t want to ask anything of Lydia that isn’t fair of her, and Lydia has asked her to leave her alone.

So that’s what she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY I gave up on trying to update this along with canon, so it’s only canon through the end of the Brighton arc, events-wise and anything else we might learn about the characters-wise. Potential differences that come to my mind: Jane and Bing didn’t go to New York, but did return to LA briefly in between the end of Lizzie’s video blogs and the events of this chapter. Jane is employed by a website as a freelance fashion blogger. Bing did dropped out of med school, and is still doing charity work. Caroline works for her parents’ real estate agency. Whatever’s going on w Mary and Gigi on Twitter didn’t happen. Mary turns 18 over the course of the chapter and is going into her senior year of high school. Maria Lu is 20. Caroline didn’t go chew Lizzie out because wtf. De Bourgh contacted her and accused her of corporate ladder-climbing. Lizzie didn’t publicize the de Bourgh confrontation.


	3. Communication Studies (Pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camping trips, weddings, and Christmas plans.

Gigi makes it home to San Francisco just in time to accompany Fitz and Brandon on their yearly backpacking trip to Point Reyes. She feels mildly bad about encroaching on their coupley time, but she thinks Fitz can tell immediately that there’s something up with her, and she’s grateful for how perceptive he is.

She has a good time, all things considered. The hike out to the campsite is only about ten miles and pretty easy. Because Brandon is the sporty, outdoorsy type and Fitz is the competitive type, they’ve been racing, and Gigi has been lagging behind them for the entire hike. She doesn’t mind, though. She hangs back and watches them bound through the underbrush like excited puppies, occasionally whooping and scaring off all the wildlife they’re supposed to be keeping an eye out for.

Even though Fitz told her to pack light, Gigi brought her iPod along. She’s grateful for that now, given some time to be alone with her thoughts. She listens to acoustic covers of Florence and the Machine songs. Even though the strong baseline is missing, she feels the familiar echo of it in her heartbeat and that keeps her feet moving.

A few miles and an adorable encounter with a family of quails later, they’ve reached their beachside campsite. It’s sandy and cold, and Gigi’s not quite sure the novelty of sleeping near the ocean is worth all of that, but after the stars come out and Brandon starts a campfire she begins to understand the appeal.

Brandon turns in early and suggests they do the same; it’s only after he’s retreated to the tent and Fitz fixes her with a purposeful stare that she realizes it was a set up.

“What?” she asks after a second.

“Darcy told me about the fight,” Fitz says.

“He… what?” Gigi sputters, picking up a nearby stick and breaking it half just to give herself something to do with her hands. She realizes retroactively that this wasn’t the most subtle thing she could’ve done with her hands at that particular moment.

“He said the two of you got in a fight…”

“Oh, right,” Gigi sighs. “That fight. Yeah. I talked to him before I left. I was… being a brat. He was just worried. That’s all.”

“Hmm,” Fitz says. “And the other fight you had, the thing you _thought_ I was talking about just now,” he begins. She looks down at her stick and peels the bark off of it while he speaks. “Is that why you came home early?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I had a fight with… someone I like.”

“Someone you _like_ , huh?”

“Yeah,” she says, quiet, subdued, and Fitz edges off the teasing because Fitz is the best.

“So, what’s his name? Is it someone I know?”

Her stomach twists and she doesn’t say anything and there’s this little part of her that thinks _if you can’t even tell Fitz, you’ll never be able to tell anybody._

She prods the dying fire with her stick. Another part of her thinks that she wants to feel brave. She _is_ brave, she reminds herself after a second.

“You’re not going to like it,” she says, and his back straightens immediately. She wants to be offended, wants to say that Fitz and William never give her enough credit. But she knows how it’ll look to them. She knows what they’ll think.

Maybe she’s the one that’s not giving them enough credit, though.

Because she’s taken a long pause and things are getting awkward, she takes a deep breath and focuses on getting the first part out first. “It’s a girl,” she says. Fitz’s expression changes from worried to relieved.

“That’s alright,” he tells her quietly. She jabs at the embers again, sending up a fluttering of little sparks. His response was meant to comfort and reassure, she knows, and it really should. It should feel good that this revelation is so natural and easy. But every muscle in her body is wound tight and her stomach is as uneasy as if she’s been sprinting for a half mile.

“Lydia,” she says while she still has the momentum. Fitz goes from relieved to bemused.

“Lydia… Lizzie’s sister Lydia?”

“It’s Lydia,” Gigi confirms. “I had a fight with Lydia.”

“It’s Lydia that you…”

“Yeah, I really like her.” Gigi’s voice gets caught in the back of her mouth mid-sentence and she clears her throat. The heat from the fire is dying down, so she drops the stick and brings her knees to her chest, rubbing her legs to keep warm.

“Well,” Fitz says, looking where the fire used to be. “I don’t know Lydia that well.”

It’s a more generous response than Gigi was expecting, and that’s enough.

“She’s great,” Gigi says, resting her chin on her knees. “She doesn’t let anyone make her feel sorry for who she is, and she’s not afraid of anything. And she’s gorgeous and she scares me a little bit but in a good way.” She feels herself babbling, feels it in the flush that rises on her cheeks, but she can’t quite make herself stop. “If that makes any sense.”

“It makes sense,” Fitz says. “So… what did you fight about?”

Gigi hums to herself as she tries to remember the conversation. “Honestly, I don’t… even know,” she says. “It seems so stupid in retrospect.”

“That makes sense too,” Fitz assures her. “Have you talked to her since then?”

“No,” Gigi says. “I don’t even know what I’d say.”

“Sometimes saying anything is better than saying nothing,” Fitz reasons.

“Sometimes,” Gigi echoes quietly.

“You should call her when we get home,” he says. She doesn’t say anything, squishes her lips to one side in thought. “Come on, Gigi, I can tell you want to do it. Whatever’s going on with you, it’s tearing you up. You’ve been so quiet…”

“I’ve been thinking,” Gigi says.

“You know that if our places were swapped you’d be dialing the number yourself,” he says, and he’s not wrong. “So consider this a gentle nudge.”

It’s a nudge she definitely needed, but she doesn’t know if it’s going to get the job done.

* * *

When they get back to San Francisco, she seriously considers calling Lydia.

She queues up the number on her phone and everything. All that’s left to do is hit the call button.

Her phone rests flat on her desk for several long minutes, the screen going dim, her fingers tingling slightly as her hand begins to fall asleep where it’s suspended above the screen.

After a long moment she locks her phone and slides it into her pocket, telling herself she’ll call tomorrow. There are a hundred conversations she needs to have with Lydia, though, and there are too many ways each of those conversations could go wrong.

But still, she thinks again, she’ll call tomorrow. She almost really believes herself this time.

* * *

The late summer days melt by and the more of them that pass, the less she thinks about calling Lydia. It’s especially easy to forget it when she starts up school again; senior year comes with many new responsibilities, including the looming deadline for grad school applications. The days pass by quickly, and soon August is on its way out and it’s nearly September.

Which means that it’s nearly Bing and Jane’s wedding.

There are sixteen days left until her flight to Fresno when Lydia calls her.

She’s standing in line waiting to get her lunch from the cafeteria when she sees the caller ID. She stares at the phone for several long beats, something akin to panic gripping her chest. Just before the call goes to voicemail, she answers.

“Lydia?” she asks into the receiver. There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

“You haven’t RSVP’d for the wedding,” Lydia finally says.

“I…” Gigi gulps. “I thought I did already.”

“You didn’t.” Gigi hears Lydia let out a nasally sigh before she continues. “I don’t know if you’re coming or not.”

“I am,” Gigi says. “Of course I’m coming.”

“Good,” Lydia says, and hangs the phone up.

She’s rooted in place for a moment before she tucks her phone into her pocket. She wishes her hands weren’t shaking. She wishes Lydia hadn’t sounded like she hated every second she spent talking to her, even over the phone.

She’s positive she won’t be able to stand feeling this way when she’s speaking to Lydia face-to-face.

* * *

It’s peculiar to be back at Netherfield. She hasn’t been gone all that long, and her stay here had been so brief, but it feels strangely like coming back to a hometown long after graduation.

The house is so busy and bustling that it doesn’t feel big at all. Gigi’s been there for almost a full day now, having politely declined an invitation out to dinner the night before. Now, there are distant relatives and friends and neighbors wandering around, making preparations, catching up. Lydia is somewhere in the house, she knows, taking measurements for the florist.

Gigi doesn’t exactly avoid her, but she doesn’t seek her out either. They don’t cross paths.

But after everyone’s excused themselves back to their houses or hotels or room for the evening, Lizzie knocks on her door.

“You ready?” she asks, trilling her sing-songy question out for a second.

“Ready…?” Gigi asks, glancing up from her laptop screen.

“Dude,” Lizzie says. “Jane’s bachelorette party.”

“Right!” She really had forgotten. Even if she wanted to make an excuse for herself, it’d be too late now. She taps her fingers against the keyboard for a second, stalling for time, but her homework is pretty much done. She checks her outfit – the same dress she’d been wearing earlier, perfectly appropriate for a night out in town. She briefly entertains the idea of attending the bachelor party instead – William needs _someone_ to keep an eye on him, after all – but abandons the notion quickly. “Yeah, I’m ready,” she says.

“Great,” Lizzie says, ushering her along into the hallway, where everyone else is already waiting – Caroline, examining her copper-manicured nails, Jane in a pale lavender sundress, Charlotte fresh off a plane from Hunsford, Mary, who offers Gigi a smile, and furthest away from Gigi’s door, Lydia. She’s leaning against the wall and checking her phone, looking even more disengaged than Caroline. “We were going to go to Carter’s, but it didn’t feel fancy enough, so we let Caroline pick a place.”

Caroline flashes a hawkish smile.

“You let me pick a place in _Fresno_ ,” Caroline corrects. “I still think we should go to LA.”

“Next time I’ll make sure to book a private jet and you can take us wherever you want,” Lizzie says, rolling her eyes. Caroline narrows her eyes but smiles.

“Deal,” she says, brushing her long spill of hair over her shoulder.

“Where are we going?” Gigi asks, wrapping her fingers around her purse-strap tighter. She drifts towards Caroline as they walk down the hall, the presence of an old friend comforting. Caroline hooks her arm through Gigi’s.

“You’ll like it,” Caroline promises, brushing past Lydia as they go down the hallway at a brisk pace. Gigi tries not to look back as she passes her, but her eyes are drawn to the fiery color of Lydia’s hair. They make eye contact for a second. Lydia looks away first.

* * *

 

The place Caroline picked out is sleek and stylish and (Gigi can tell as soon as they walk in) not exactly to Jane’s taste, but not outlandish enough to make the bride-to-be outright uncomfortable. It’s not a bad call on Caroline’s part.

Gigi dances with Caroline and Jane for a while, because it’s fun to watch Caroline trying to coax Jane out of her shell, but eventually she retires to the bar. She’d started to make her way to the table before remembering that Lydia and Mary were sitting there when she’d left and abruptly changed course.

She’s only just ordered her drink when Lydia appears next to her.

“Hi,” Lydia says.

“Hi,” Gigi says.

Lydia sits down next to her. She can’t think of anything to say, so she just clears her throat. The sound gets lost in the ambient noise of the club.

“How’ve you been?” Lydia asks, swiveling her barstool side to side lazily as she speaks. Gigi looks down at her hands.

“Good,” she says. “Busy. Grad school stuff. Work.”

“You have a thing starting in the winter, right?”

“Yeah,” Gigi says. “I’m getting interns. It’s exciting.” She clears her throat again. She wishes her drink would come. “And you?” Her voice is tight.

“Hmm?” Lydia asks.

“How have you been?” Gigi asks.

“Also busy,” Lydia says. “Wedding stuff. I changed my major.” She brought her drink with her when she sat down and she’s fidgeting with her glass. “To advertising and media management.”

“That’s awesome,” Gigi says. “That’s perfect for you.”

“Yeah,” Lydia says. “I have to take a bunch of business classes though, and they’re totally killer.”

“You’re smart. You’ll be fine.”

The corners of Lydia’s mouth quirk into a smile. “Thanks,” she says.

Gigi smiles back, but she doesn’t actually feel relieved or happy or anything. Lydia never offers insight on what she wants to talk about and what she doesn’t. Gigi’s seen the same thing in Lizzie, in those few arguments she and William have had. She’s not much better at guessing and choosing than her brother is.

But in that moment, where Lydia’s smiling and she’s smiling and her drink _finally_ arrives, it’s almost like things are back to normal, and she can’t help but think that it’s better than nothing.

* * *

 

Things continue like that for the next two days, through the rehearsal dinner and the family functions and everything. It’s almost like nothing ever happened – Gigi doesn’t spend quite as much time with Lydia as she did before she left, but when they are together it’s normal. It’s almost normal.

Lydia is insanely stressed out over wedding preparations, and seems entirely convinced that something is going to go wrong, but they’re a few hours through the reception now and everything has gone off without a hitch. Gigi is eating a piece of cake when she spots Lydia heading towards her. She begins to smile, but Lydia’s expression is stern.

 “Why’d you leave?” Lydia asks. Gigi is brandishing the fork at shoulder-height, grasped tight in her fist. Taking a deep breath, she sets the fork down on her plate, which remains at chest-height between them, a shield.

“I don’t know,” Gigi says, which is a bald-faced lie. She knows exactly why. “I guess… I thought…”

She wishes Lydia would cut her off, like Lydia tends to do when she’s angry, but no such salvation comes.

“I guess I thought…” she tries again.

“What?” Lydia prompts, hands at a jaunty angle on her hips.

“I wanted to give you space,” she says, which is at least part of the truth. Lydia snorts.

“Well you don’t do halfsies,” Lydia says.

“And I was scared,” Gigi admits. That’s most of the rest of the truth.

“Of me?”

“Yes,” Gigi says.

“I’m sorry,” Lydia says, just a beat before Gigi says exactly the same thing. They both laugh, quietly, under their breath, and it dies out quickly.

“Do you want to dance?” Lydia asks. Gigi glances up at the nearest sound system speaker, because the music has just turned over to something slow and languid, but it only takes her a second to decide before she puts her plate down.

Lydia kicks off her heels before stepping onto the dance floor and Gigi does the same. They leave their shoes leaning together in the same spot.

It’s a little awkward at first, trying to decide what to do with hands, how close to stand. It’s too much like middle school for Gigi’s liking, but once everything is sorted out it’s nice. At first they’re close enough that their identical dresses brush together, and eventually it’s impossible to tell which folds of fabric belong to who. Lydia’s hands are around Gigi’s neck, and she twists a wispy lock of hair at the nape of Gigi’s neck around one of her fingers. She tugs at it and Gigi feels her cheeks flush bright red.

Lydia just smirks, doesn’t break eye contact with her. It all feels so intimate, Gigi has to wonder what it looks like from an outside perspective – but when she glances around, nobody seems to be paying them any attention whatsoever. Her gaze wanders for too long and Lydia tugs at her hair again, a little more sharply this time. A shiver goes down Gigi’s spine and Lydia laughs. As the song ends, Lydia’s hands slide down Gigi’s bare shoulders and she catches her hands in hers, twining their fingers together.

The next few songs are up tempo, and as they dance, they are not always touching. When they are, Gigi is hyperaware of it, and of Lydia’s ever-present smirk.

* * *

 

When she turns her phone on after getting off the plane in San Francisco, it buzzes immediately.

_Hey princess_ , the display reads, showing the message from Lydia. _txt me when ur @ home safe xoxo_

She smiles to herself, shaking her head. It was such a little thing, getting these texts from Lydia, but one she’d missed so much.

“What?” William asks, constantly bemused by people who smile for no apparent reason. She shakes her head again.

“Nothing,” she says. He doesn’t seem convinced at all.

* * *

 

For the next couple months, Gigi doesn’t get much chance to get back to Fresno. Lizzie and William go back and forth a few times while they handle Lizzie’s move to San Francisco, but she can never get rid of her responsibilities for long enough to go along, and Lydia doesn’t get a chance to get up to the City either.

She has a getaway planned for the first week of her winter vacation, before her interns arrive for the winter session at Pemberley Digital.

A week before she’s set to leave (during _finals,_ too), one of the internship candidates drops out, which means she has to cancel her trip to reschedule everything.

She calls Lizzie to vent about it because Lizzie’s better for venting than William is.

“Hmm,” is Lizzie’s initial reaction to the news.

She complains for a few more minutes before Lizzie says “You know, I might be able to handle this.”

Gigi figures that if anyone knows a good candidate for a vlogging internship it’s probably Lizzie, so she agrees. She still has to cancel the trip to Fresno, though. There’s too much to be done. Lydia sends her several appropriately pouty texts ( _hvnt seen u since SEPTEMBER_ , she insists with a frowny face emoticon, _and its my bday_ , followed by ten more frowny faces).

It’s fine, though, Gigi insists to herself. She hadn’t even thought up an appropriate excuse to tell Lizzie and William about why she was taking a weekend trip to Fresno anyway.

* * *

 

In the next couple weeks, Gigi accidentally falls out of touch with Lydia. She falls out of touch with just about everyone that isn’t close enough to drop by her apartment to scare her out of the house for dinner, though.

Maria Lu shows up a day before the rest of the interns, and Gigi spends Sunday showing her around the City and catching up. It’s a great day full of much-needed relaxation after the semester she’s had, and Maria’s enthusiasm is totally catching, so by the time they get back to Pemberley Digital that afternoon, Gigi’s in a great mood.

As they cross the lobby, Gigi catches sight of the backs of a pair of familiar heads.

“Lizzie,” she calls out, and sure enough, Lizzie wheels around, Lydia in close tow. Lydia’s face lights up when she sees Gigi and Maria and she bounds over, tossing her arms around Gigi’s neck in a hug. Gigi hugs her back, a little confused but mostly happy.

“Hey!” she says. “What are you doing here? You didn’t say anything about visiting.”

Lydia raises her eyebrows, confused for all of half a second before she catches on. “Lizzie?” she prompts.

“Lydia’s here for the internship,” Lizzie says with a big, self-congratulatory smile.

“Oh, _Lydia’s_ the replacement you found?” Maria asks. Gigi realizes that she and Lydia are still kind of half-hugging. She drops her arms to her side and smiles. “You made it sound like you didn’t know who it was going to be yet.”

“I… didn’t,” Gigi says, looking to Lizzie for explanation.

“Must’ve forgotten to say,” Lizzie says, not at all convincing. Lizzie stops only short of tossing Lydia into her office unannounced, Gigi thinks to herself.

“I thought you knew already,” Lydia says.

“I didn’t,” Gigi says again, at a complete loss for words. “It’s a nice surprise, though.”

“This is going to be so much fun,” Maria enthuses.

“Yeah,” Lydia agrees. “I think it will be.”

* * *

 

It takes approximately one week before things apparently stop being fun for Lydia. Gigi is oblivious to any tension between the Bennet sisters right up until the point that it gets ugly and explodes.

“Hey,” she says, poking her head into Lizzie’s office a little after the workday ends. “Where do you and Lydia want to go for dinner?”

“Well,” Lizzie says, tight-lipped, not looking up from her desk. “ _I_ am going back to my apartment, where I will be _micromanaging my personal life_ , and _Lydia_ can go wherever she wants to go since _I’m not her boss_.”

Gigi backs out of the room without saying anything else and makes a mental note to warn William about Lizzie’s bad mood before he can put a foot in his mouth.

Lydia and all the other Domino interns share one big office, but thankfully Lydia is the only one still left in it when she gets there.

“Hey,” she says. Lydia looks up and smiles at her before returning her gaze to the pile of scripts on the desk in front of her. “Where do you want to go for dinner?”

“Uhhhhh,” Lydia hedges. “I don’t know, ask Lizzie. She probably has an opinion.”

Lydia’s much better at nonchalant than Lizzie is.

“She’s busy,” Gigi says.

“Oh,” Lydia says quietly. “You can pick a place then. Somewhere nice.”

“Lydia…” Gigi begins to ask, tapping her fingertips against the doorframe. The idea of having dinner with just Lydia at a nice restaurant is really appealing, but there’s a crisis at hand here. “Are you… did you have a fight with Lizzie?”

Lydia looks up at her, purses her lips, and looks down again. Makes a noncommittal humming noise in the back of her throat. “Yes,” she finally says. “It was stupid.”

“Sometimes fights are,” Gigi says, moving back into the office. She leans against the doorframe as Lydia shuffles some papers around her desk purposelessly.

“It was _so stupid_ ,” she says, and the way her voice cracks makes Gigi’s stomach twist. “And now Lizzie’s mad at me, and I don’t…”

“It’ll be fine,” Gigi says too quickly.

“It wasn’t last time.”

“Yeah, but she’ll come around.” Gigi sets down her clipboard as she speaks. When she gets nervous she fiddles with her hands, and she doesn’t want to look disengaged right now. “Trust me, William and I fight all the time.”

“Please,” Lydia scoffs. She can’t hide that she’s affronted by Lydia’s tone and raises her eyebrows. Catching her look, Lydia sighs and shuffles the scripts into a pile, dropping them into her bag. “You two are like… super siblings. Like, you’re both so perfect. So it’s not really helpful to hear about your problems.” She uses airquotes around the word problems.

“We’re not perfect,” Gigi says in a halting meter. Lydia shrugs. Gigi’s hands ball up in fists at her sides. Something about Lydia’s comments make her angry. Not scream-and-cry angry, but a kind of anger that coils up deep inside her stomach. It’s an anger she doesn’t fully understand yet, and she just wants to ignore it, but she can’t.

She doesn’t. She stands up and closes the door to the office. As she leans against the door with her hands behind her back, Lydia stares at her, impassive.

“When our parents died,” Gigi says, not bothering with a preamble. Lydia’s eyes widen in shock and she leans back in her chair. “William waited three days to tell me.”

Lydia doesn’t have a response. “Didn’t… what happened?”

“Well, the accident was the day before Christmas Eve, and William… he just couldn’t tell me. And I didn’t think anything of it at first because I was like, eleven, you know? Our parents disappeared on business all the time. I mean, it was Christmas, so I thought it was weird, but… I don’t know. He told me the day after Christmas. I was so angry at him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Gigi chokes out, her momentary bravery waning at the interruption. “I wasn’t looking for sympathy. I was just saying… I didn’t talk to him for _months_ after that. And he was, you know. Barely as old as I am now, trying to finish school, and already thinking about taking over as CEO here. And trying to take care of me. And I wouldn’t even _talk_ to him. It was the last thing in the world he needed. He hurt me really badly but I hurt him too. And even though I love my brother and we’re super close now, we’ve had a hard time trusting each other ever since that day he finally did tell me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Gigi says. “He has a hard time trusting that I can take care of myself and I have a hard time trusting him not to go behind my back. We’re not perfect.”

Lydia is quiet for a long moment. When she takes a breath to speak, her expression is pensive. “So you’re saying Lizzie’s never going to trust me again.”

“No,” Gigi exclaims, holding her hands up in front of her. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s just… it’s a lot of work, you know? Nothing’s easy.”

“I guess,” Lydia says, more to the desk than to her. After another thoughtful second, just as she’s wondering if she should leave, Lydia speaks up again. “Gigi?” she asks.

“Mhmm?”

“You and your brother spend Christmas at that house you own in Tahoe every year, right?”

Gigi’s not exactly surprised that Lydia strung that together, but she still swallows hard as she tries to respond. “Yeah,” she says. Lydia fixes her with a critical gaze.

“Didn’t he ask Lizzie to come with you guys this year?”

“Yeah,” Gigi says again, softer.

“Doesn’t that _piss you off_?”

The question catches Gigi off guard, and she feels her mouth working without actually saying any words. Eventually, she just smiles, wondering if how nervous she is shows on her face. “No,” she says. “Lizzie’s part of our family now.”

Lydia just nods, looking down at her desk even though there’s nothing on it anymore. Gigi lingers in the doorway a moment longer.

“Lydia,” she says. Lydia’s head jerks up. Her eyes are shining with uncertainty and that steels Gigi’s resolve. “You should come too,” she says.

Lydia nods slowly, a half-smile forming on her face. “Yeah, okay,” she says, looking down at her desk again. “I’d like that.”

* * *

 

Lizzie and Lydia talk Jane into flying out to Tahoe with them for Christmas. Somehow, Jane manages to talk Bing into coming, accomplishing what William has been attempting to do unsuccessfully for years.

They invite the rest of the family too, but: Caroline is in Cannes and so she politely declines; Brandon’s father is a pastor and for his family Christmas is more of a weeks-long attendance mandatory affair than a weekend getaway kind of thing, which means he and Fitz aren’t available until New Year’s; the Lee parents can’t be bothered to make the trip from New York and nobody _minds_ that they can’t come so the topic is dropped; Aunt Catherine hasn’t fully warmed to Lizzie yet and makes no pretenses; Charlotte’s mother absolutely must have her daughters home for their first holiday season after moving away; Mary’s band has booked a gig for Christmas Eve; and Mrs. Bennet insists that she and Mr. Bennet have already made plans with her sister in Los Angeles and that it’s too late to cancel those plans now.

This is all probably for the best, because the cabin in Tahoe only has three bedrooms and is overcrowded already.

“It’s too bad you had the twin beds in your room replaced with a king,” William comments as they all settle down in the living room. “If you hadn’t we’d have enough beds.”

“I was tired of having the kid room,” Gigi says, rolling her eyes. “Besides, we’ve like, _never_ had this much company here before. I didn’t think we ever would.”

“That’s true,” William says. “Well, Lydia can sleep on the sectional, I suppose.”

“Are you kidding?” Lydia whines. “I’ll freeze to death.”

“You can stay with me,” Gigi offers. “My new bed is huge.” William, Bing, and Jane don’t seem to think much of this, oblivious as ever. Lizzie wears a knowing smirk but mercifully doesn’t say anything.

“Awesome,” Lydia says, picking her suitcase up. “Take me there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! This is only half of what I'd planned to post for this chapter, so now the total is up to 6 and I'll be done... god knows when. Thanks for sticking with this story if you still are, months-long hiatuses and all!

**Author's Note:**

> I also made an 8tracks playlist of all the songs mentioned in this fic! Here: http://8tracks.com/plutocharon/gigi-and-lydia-s-mixtape


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